modeste bleu
by tsuyuzamu
Summary: Sometimes in life, all it takes is a jump. But if that jump leads you to becoming the manager of a tennis club abound with colorful characters, led by their sadist of a captain (who's probably got a thing for you and yikes, maybe even S&M), it's probably still worth all the bruises and fractures. [Yukimura/Male!OC - SanaYana] [Rated T for language and mild themes]
1. December 31st

Chapter 01: December 31st

 _"Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like."_

\- Lemony Snickett

* * *

 _Fear._

 _The sharp, icy feeling strikes down Seiichi's entire body like a bolt of lightning as he struggles to open his closed eyes. He's frozen in place, his limbs heavy like a baggage of stone. The weight becomes increasingly dense—to the point where he's positive he's been crushed and he's left in a desperate, gasping mess. He tries to breath, he opens his mouth and he tries, but there is no air to breathe in._

 _Drowning._

 _He's drowning._

 _He's drowning in a thick sea of anguish._

 _Seiichi has become conscious of the apparent fact that he can't escape from this unnerving nightmare—this nightmare on which his limbs are frozen—his body in a petrified state, his senses being slowly drawn to the night around him. So… he continues to sink._

 _Deeper, deeper, until numbness embraces him from the suffocating darkness._

…

Seiichi suddenly woke with a violent jolt, a hitched gasp escaping from his dry lips. His dark-brown eyes were wide with panic as he breathed heavy ragged breaths; his heart pounded thunderously against his frail chest and he clawed at the white bed sheets of the hospital bed with clammy hands and short nails (trimmed for his own safety). His sweat-covered body felt as though it were burning in hellfire, but Seiichi was much too distracted by the near-miraculous discovery that it was only a nightmare to be affected by petty pain.

I'm still living, I'm still living, I'm still living. The blue-haired boy chanted those three words to himself like a mantra for a minute before he finally managed to grab firm hold of his sanity.

Regardless, it took a moment to compose himself and even out his shuddering breaths. Once he felt even a minuscule of ease, he sat up with the support of weak, trembling arms. Seiichi winced a few times and allowed a low groan to slip out as he begun to rise. Simply lifting his _own_ body weight was beginning to be a task.

Nonetheless he was able to sit up against his damp pillows… pillows which _reeked_ of over-night perspiration. He would have to ask for new ones.

When Seiichi finally took a careful look of his environment, he realized that he was still in the hospital. He had been for more than a week now. In fact, it'd been nearly a whole month since he was admitted early December. How could he forget that?

With a deep sigh, Seiichi rubbed his aching eyes and did his best to ignore the pain pulsing through his head. Soon after, his hands dropped uselessly onto his empty lap.

Seiichi stared at the sickly, pale tone of his heated flesh and he sat like that for a minute, hunched over and blank-faced. It wasn't until the door to his room opened that he snapped out of his mindless state, and he glared at the woman who had walked in. It was his nurse.

Once he noticed the look of what he recognized to be surprise on her face, he forced a casual smile.

"Good morning, ma'am," he greeted, using the same tender tone he always used whenever he was feeling particularly bitter.

"G-Good morning…" she stuttered back. Perhaps the dry iciness in that child's eyes was only an illusion… after all, she had been working pretty long hours lately. Perhaps those late night shifts were finally getting to her. Pushing her distractions aside, she too smiled.

"I came in to check on you. How are you feeling?"

 _'Like fucking shit, why haven't you figured it out already?'_

"I feel a bit tired, but otherwise fine." Seiichi replied politely. The nurse simply smiled sympathetically (as all nurses were trained to do—smile and at least act like you care) and jotted a few things down onto her green clipboard. Then, she looked back to him, her eyes falling upon the bedside table. "Do you like the flowers your grandmother sent you?"

Seiichi turned his head. Much to his (expected) surprise, there was a petite blue pot of daisies perched carefully onto the surface of the bedside table. He blinked. He was actually a little taken by the flowers. His grandmother had sent him a pot of daisies? When did this happen?

It was then that he leaned forward and took a closer look, noticing the edge of a white card poking out of the soil. Curious, Seiichi pulled the little card out, and read it out loud:

" _'Get well soon, Hitoshi… signed, grandma.'_ "

Seiichi blinked. Hitoshi? If Seiichi recalled correctly, _his_ grandmother definitely didn't have any memory deficiencies. Well… perhaps she _was_ growing a tad bit senile, but she wasn't so bad that she'd forget her own grandson's name.

He shifted his puzzled gaze to the nurse, who was now chuckling softly to herself, seemingly amused by the mistake. "Ah, those flowers must've been sent to the wrong room… the old woman did seem fairly confused when she was requesting they be delivered by a nurse instead of her. I'll take them to the right room when I leave."

"Ah, hold on… I'll deliver them instead." Seiichi interjected, and he began to move. He ignored the nurse's protests as he put on his green hospital slippers and stood up on his weak legs. However, as fragile as they were, they _were_ still strong enough to hold up his weight, that much was apparent.

After picking up the small pot of daisies, he turned to the lady and asked, "What room is Hitoshi-san in?"

"Matsumoto–kun? He's in the room right next to yours… Room 405." she replied to his inquire, but the concern on her face had not yet faded. "Yukimura-kun, honestly, you should let me handle that instead…"

"If it's in the room next to mine, then there really shouldn't be a problem," Seiichi replied, pretending not to notice the slight snarl that contrasted to his usual gentle tone. His nurse on the other hand flinched at the sharpness of his voice. "Besides, I've been itching to walk for a while… lying still for weeks and weeks on end really makes one stiff to the bone."

With his mind made clear, she finally let out a long sigh and reluctantly opened the door. "Well… if you're so insistent…"

Seiichi thanked her with a smile before exiting his room. He walked into the hallway, looking around for Room 405. He remembered the nurse saying it was a room next to his, so perhaps it was the door to his right? He walked down the hall in that direction for a minute before he reached the door of his attention.

Written boldly a silver plaque next to the door, it read as clear as day, **ROOM 405**.

It seemed that finding the room had been much quicker than he'd thought.

With a short breath of confidence, he opened the door and hesitantly stepped inside.

Seiichi was immediately welcomed by a warm, fuzzy ambiance. It stopped him in his tracks, somewhat taking him by surprise. Never had the hospital ever given him such an odd feeling of comfort. He stood still distractedly for only a moment before he gazed back at the bandaged figure lying in the hospital bed a few feet away from him. It was… a boy.

A few minutes later he approached the boy, and curiosity beckoned him to lean over and peer into the blankets that seemed to cocoon around the sleeping child. Much to his own shame, Seiichi couldn't help but to reach towards the figure and tug on his covers, revealing his face.

Nearly his entire head was wrapped in thick, white bandages. All around the temples of his small head, then over his left eye, were tightly bound wrappings. Peeking from under the loose parts of the bandage were tufts of light-beige hair, and through the light strands Seiichi could see that his free eye was closed. His visible pale-peach flesh, Seiichi also noted, was dotted in light freckles… _especially_ along his cheeks and nose—which, additionally, made him look rather _foreign_ for a Japanese boy. For only a second, Seiichi had panicked that he accidentally entered the wrong room.

He quickly remembered, however, that he did indeed step foot into Room 405. After all, that was what the silver plaque by the door said.

Seiichi gazed at the slumbering boy for only a bit longer before setting the daisies down onto the bedside table. He was still captivated by the tranquil aura surrounding the stranger, trapped in a trance that his resting figure caused. As Seiichi stood there longer, absorbing that peculiar warmth while he watched the boy continue to sleep, he had forgotten the entire reason why he came into that room in the first place…

… until his eyes traveled down to the daisy crowns rested upon the boy's stomach, his arm (which was fitted into an arm sling) perched carefully on top of them.

 _'Oh, yeah… flower delivery…'_ Seiichi thought to himself, _'It seems that I'm becoming too caught up in this strange atmosphere.'_

But… it wouldn't hurt to stay a little longer, right?

He pulled a nearby chair a few inches closer before seating himself. Then, he took a moment to make himself comfortable and take in his surroundings. It wasn't that much different from his own room, save for the décor and shape.

On the bedside table was an open sketchbook he only just noticed. He stretched his neck for a better view, and what he saw captured his utter interest. Taped between the two pages were pressed hydrangeas, and all around it were messily written notes varying in size. There were also small doodles which detailed into the parts of a hydrangea, which Seiichi soon came to realize were eerily accurate. It seemed that the boy had quite the knack for floriculture.

Without thinking, Seiichi reached towards the sketchbook with gentle fingers and lifted it carefully, then inching it towards his lap like delicate glass. Now that Seiichi had a closer view of the worn pages, he could read the notes written on it more clearly. There were things like a hydrangea's meaning in hanakotoba (though Seiichi already knew), and records of where they grew; the proper way to raise them, so on so on. Everything written down had some form of connection to the Hydrangea macrophylla.

As the blue-haired boy continued to skim through the paragraphs of text, he failed to notice the sounds of shifting blankets and a soft sigh.

"Y' shoul' look at the dais'es."

Seiichi admittedly jumped, a bit startled by the sudden noise. He looked up towards the voice, his brown eyes meeting with a sharp, ocean-blue one. The boy had woken so _soundlessly._ Seiichi was quick to calm his pounding heart, however, and he gave the boy a serene smile. "Oh… am I being given permission to look through your book?"

The boy's eye widened and he nodded eagerly, a bright smile crossing his face. "Y'ah, y'ah!"

Seiichi raised an eyebrow. Either this boy was currently in a state of extreme drowse, or the drugs being given to him were particularly heavy. Or, more likely, it was both.

"M' mum helps meh with press'n the fl'wers… it gets really hard sometim's, since some fl'wers are so big…" the boy paused in silence for a second, appearing to be in deep thought, before he turned back to Seiichi with his half-lidded eye. Seiichi was honestly expecting him to just pass out again then and there. "Hey, did y' know they're fairies in my room?"

Right away, the boy began going on some strange tangents (in that thick, sleepy, drug-induced slur of his) while Seiichi more or less listened (but when he did, he could barely understand the words being said). All Seiichi caught was something to do with fairies, cats, and (he didn't quite understand this part, thus was left to guess) noisy raindrops that wouldn't stop talking.

 _'The nurse in charge of this boy's prescription must've really given him quite the dosage.'_ he pondered, finding himself vaguely amused with the boy's peculiar behavior.

"—so th'n I s'd g'dbye to them. Hey, hey, wanna kn'w somethin' about m' cat? He—"

"—excuse me, boy, but do you mind if I ask you a question?" Seiichi swiftly interrupted, before the woozy boy could go on another rant. Said boy paused, and he studied Seiichi carefully for a moment. Then he shook his head meekly. Seiichi set the sketchbook back onto the bedside table with a gentle plop before turning back to the light-beige haired boy. He smiled mildly, and scooted closer. "It seems that our meeting was a bit strange, so let's do it properly. I'm Yukimura Seiichi, and you are Matsumoto Hitoshi, yes?"

The boy's eye widened with pure shock. "Whoa! How'd you know?! Are y' a _fairy?!"_

"F-Fairy…?" Seiichi was actually taken aback by the peculiar question. "Um… no. I'm not. I'm a human boy, like you."

"Oh… that's borin'." Hitoshi visibly wilted. It was actually kind of adorable. Seiichi shifted in his seat for a moment, then with hesitance he hoped wasn't obvious, he opened his mouth again, "Well, Matsumoto-san, if I may inquire, what kind of accident got you into this hospital? You don't have to answer, if you aren't comfortable with telling me…"

Hitoshi shook his head. "… Car. 'Was ridin' m' bike, an' got hit by a car."

The blue-haired boy nodded slowly. That made sense, considering the amount of bandages he was covered in. That was when Hitoshi looked back at Seiichi, a hint of curiosity traced across his visible features. "Um… what 'bout you? You d'nt look very unhealth' to meh… are y' sick?"

The question—the way it was asked so innocently, so nonchalantly, so fucking _casually_ —it made something very thin in Seiichi _snap._

"I _am_ sick _,_ can't you take a guess?" he almost growled, the snarl in his voice making the timid boy flinch. While ducking his head, a barely-audible apology stumbled from his lips as he pulled his bed covers a little closer to his chin—sort of like a frightened child would after catching sight of a monster.

 _'Shit. I scared him.'_ Seiichi forced himself to smile kindly, and he stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in. He gently eased himself down onto the hospital mattress, his heavy weight sinking into the bedside drawing the boy a bit closer. "No, I should be the one apologizing… I wasn't intending to startle you."

"… It's ok'y," the boy murmured timorously, "I was prob'ly bein' rude again… m' mum says that I'm too blunt fer' m' own good."

"You weren't being blunt at all, Matsumoto-san… I was just feeling a bit irritated and I snapped at you. For that, I apologize." Seiichi's eyes met with the boy's blue one again, searching for any sign of discomfort. Once he was confident that the boy wasn't as nervous as he was before, he calmly asked (partly out of his own curiosity), "… How old are you?"

The boy raised an eyebrow in question, seemingly confused by Seiichi's sudden change of subject, before dubiously answering, "… I'm thirteen."

"Eh… I'm thirteen, too." Seiichi grinned. The boy's eye widened in pleasant surprise before his shocked expression quickly morphed into one of suspicion. He squinted cautiously and murmured, "Y' don't look thirteen to me… are y' teasin' me?"

At this moment, Seiichi noticed that the medication was beginning to wear off. The boy was noticeably becoming more conscious and his slur was growing more understandable.

The blue-haired boy shook his head, a few soft chuckles escaping from his lips. "Nope. I'm really thirteen. You shouldn't be talking, though. Because, when I looked at you, I thought you were an eleven-year-old."

Hitoshi's face scrunched into a scowl. "I'm not eleven."

"I know you're not. But you look like it."

"Do not."

"Do too. You're very tiny."

At this, Hitoshi's eye flared with utter offense. He promptly sat up, squeaking, "A-Am not! I'm not tiny! Wh-What?! Y' try'na p-pick a fight with meh?!" he then proceeded to ball his one free hand into a fist (though he was quite obviously trembling). "I'll have y' know that I'm not s-scared of you, j-just cause yer' a little bigger than meh!"

Seiichi chuckled almost melodiously. Hitoshi was quite adorable, really, he was. He sort of reminded him of his younger teammate, Akaya. Both boys seemed to get flustered by just about anything. "Fufu… I suppose on the other hand, you think _I'll_ be intimidated by _you?"_

"Well…" Hitoshi was absolutely cherry-red in the face, slipping into an agitated state as he started stuttering incoherent things like a frustrated child. Honestly, he was growing even cuter by the second…

That was when the door to the room opened. Seiichi turned around, a bit upset that his time with the boy was being interrupted right when he was enjoying it. There, standing in the doorway, was his nurse wearing an apologetic smile. "It's time for your tests, Yukimura-kun. I know you were probably having fun, but it's time to go."

Seiichi hid his frown. He stood up from Hitoshi's bed and waved goodbye.

"I hope to see you later, Matsumoto-san. Also, I forgot to tell you, but your grandma accidentally left me those daisies on the bedside table. I brought them back to you."

It was in that moment that the golden rays of the morning sun shone through the open window curtains, resting upon Hitoshi's upright figure and giving him a warm, soft yellow glow—as though an angel were embracing him from behind. Hitoshi smiled a sleepy, lopsided smile at Seiichi and returned his goodbye with a lazy wave.

"Bye bye…" the boy's wistful expression faded a bit, and he tilted his head confusingly, asking, "Wait, what was yer' name again?"

Seiichi's lips curved into a hopeless smile.

"It's Yukimura Seiichi."

"Bye bye, Yukimura-san!" Hitoshi waved ecstatically. The huge, ardor grin on his face absolutely intoxicated Seiichi, so much so that he forced himself to turn away from the boy's radiant benevolence.

 _'Ah…'_

He released a soft, sullen sigh.

 _'I don't want to leave this warmth yet.'_

* * *

「January 3rd」

* * *

For the past three days, Seiichi had been bombarded with tests and examinations. He was repeatedly told, over and over again by nearly every damn doctor in the whole hospital, that his chances of returning to tennis were extremely low. He made sure to ignore their pitying glances, and any of their "If you keep holding on to faith and hope" bullshit. Seiichi didn't need their sympathy—the only thing sympathy could do for him was make him feel weaker than he already was.

"Well, that should be all today, Yukimura-kun."

Seiichi slipped on his shirt, buttoning it slowly. He gazed fiercely at his doctor (who was really, honestly, a good man—shame that he was now currently the subject of Seiichi Yukimura's fury), knowing that perplexed expression the man wore as he looked at test results was all too familiar. That was the look every doctor wore when they had something to say.

Seiichi stood up, fitted on his hospital slippers and began to force his stiff body to the door. He knew what would be coming and why Seiichi still stayed long enough to listen he knew not… perhaps he was still trying to convince _himself_ that he'd recover.

 _'Three.'_ Seiichi was only three feet away from the door. _'Two.'_ He was currently for the brass handle—his only hope for escape from what was to come. _'One.'_ He'd only just began to turn it when he stopped and—

—silence. A slight delay? By this time, Seiichi was positive he'd finally become so good at timing it—

"Yukimura-kun, do you _really_ still wish to play tennis?"

 _'Ah, there it is.'_ Seiichi thought with an acidulous smile. He turned around, still smiling in that same manner, and replied, "Of course. Why would I not?"

His doctor's expression softened. There it was, that same fucking light of pity in everyone's eyes when they looked at him. Seiichi suppressed a scowl and simply turned around to leave, at least before his doctor could go on some long lecture about proper recovery and health. They meant well, he knew they did, but he wasn't exactly asking for their kindness. Their only job was to do what they could to help him heal…

 _… and return to **tennis.**_

He continued to walk down the hall, his head hanging low and his dark-brown eyes studying the smooth tile floor. Every step he took was painfully rigid… he could barely move nowadays. How is it that he came to this state? Where every step came with a price of agony and every breath he took was deeper than it was before?

Seiichi stopped to lean against the wall, supporting his weight against its hard surface. Was this the Child of God's obstacle given to him by those above? A charge to be divine, perhaps. After all, even Gods weren't entirely untouchable.

He gritted his teeth and willed himself to move forward again. But as soon as he took only a baby step forward, that was when… out of _nowhere,_ a… a tennis ball touched his feet.

Seiichi paused and blinked. His head perked to the side in interest and he lowered himself slowly, picking it up with one trembling hand.

"Ah, that's my ball… can you give it back?"

He stopped again and gazed towards the open door. The voice came from inside the room. Slowly, Seiichi stood up on his spindly legs and somewhat _stumbled_ inside. What he saw made him stop for the third time.

Sitting on the bed was _him…_ the boy he met only a few days ago. Except this time, the bandages around his left eye were removed—there was now a _set_ of ocean-blue eyes gleaming at Seiichi.

Hitoshi Matsumoto… was the boy's name, wasn't it?

Quietly, Seiichi held the ball out, raising an eyebrow in question; immediately the boy's face lit up and a bright grin stretched on his lips. "Yeah, that's the one. That's my ball."

Seiichi looked at the ball, then back at the boy. With a mild smile, he shuffled towards him and gently placed the ball back into the palms of his outstretched hand. "Here, Matsumoto-san. You're welcome, but if I may ask… why is your door so wide open?"

"Eh, my dad forgets to close the door after he leaves. I just leave it open 'cause I wanna." Hitoshi shrugged, before his bright-blue eyes went as wide as saucers. He whipped his head back towards Seiichi with a look that could have been horror. "Wait—how do you know my name?"

Seiichi blinked in utter disbelief. "How…? We've met before. You don't remember me?"

 _'Well, it **has** been three days… and you were pretty out of it on medication…'_

Hitoshi shook his head.

"Nope. Maybe I was on some stuff. The things they give me here are pretty heavy." he suggested casually. Then, he leaned back against his pillows and began repeatedly throwing and catching the ball with his free hand. It was silent for a long time, before Hitoshi glanced back at him… rather _nervously,_ Seiichi noticed.

"U-Um… you can leave now, y'know. I'm not making you stay."

 _'Wow, he was much more amiable when he was drugged.'_ Seiichi thought curtly to himself, a crease in his dark eyebrows. Then, he shrugged, tilting his head to the other shoulder as he studied the boy on the bed. _'Well… everyone's happier when they're on something.'_

"But I'd like to stay and talk," Seiichi answered, giving him his best polite smile, "Can I? I mean, you're the only other boy I've seen here that's my age… we're bound to have something in common."

Hitoshi's eyes shifted. "W-Well… I'm not really good… at talking to strangers…"

"But we've met before."

"And I was drugged."

"We can re-introduce ourselves then"—the corner of Seiichi's lip lifted, forming a faint smirk—"I'm Yukimura Seiichi, from the room next to yours. And you are Matsumoto Hitoshi, yes?"

Hitoshi shrunk into his bed, the grimace on his face hard to miss and ignore.

"U-Um… yeah… I'm Matsumoto Hitoshi…" he mumbled. In the next second, however, the boy's eyes went several inches wide—as well as his mouth. The boy hastily sat back up in his bed and swiveled his gaze back to the blue-haired boy, the flabbergasted expression surprising the blue-haired boy. If Seiichi didn't know any better, he'd have guessed that his sheets were on fire.

"W-Wait, you're _the_ Yukimura Seiichi? From Rikkai? And you're in the tennis club?"

Seiichi was, admittedly, a bit startled by the boy's sudden outburst. "Y-Yes…"

Hitoshi made a wide grin. He'd become so much more energetic from almost nowhere. "My best friend Tohru is a huuuge fan of yours! He's always talking about how cool you are, and he constantly boasts about your abilities. He _never_ stops talking about how much he wants to be like you! Oh—but lately he's also been saying that it's a shame that…"

Hitoshi suddenly froze mid-sentence, ocean-blue eyes wide with realization; at once he stopped his rambles before the words could slip out of his open mouth.

It was unfortunate, however, that he wasn't fast enough in stalling himself. Seiichi already knew what the words that were to be voiced were going to be.

 _'… it's a shame that he's been hospitalized. That he got **sick.** That he may not play tennis **ever** again. It just makes me want to **pity** him, you know.'_

Hitoshi did not miss the clouds of fury that begun to storm into Seiichi's dark eyes. In involuntary response, he grabbed a fistful of his blanket, his palm covered in a sheet of sweat. Cowering uncontrollably against the frigid air that settled heavily around the blue-haired boy, he gulped and tried to keep an even exterior. How could a human being—someone who looked of similar age at that, make him tremble this much?

"U-Um… I'm really sorry!" he blurted awkwardly. He hesitantly looked up to meet with Seiichi's (frighteningly) cold gaze.

The boy gulped. "I'm too blunt for my own good, so I usually e-end up saying something mean on accident…! If it'll make you feel better, y-you can um…"

He scrunched his face, as though he were trying to remember something. Then, as if it'd suddenly dawned onto him what he was trying to recall, his eyes widened and he stared bravely at Seiichi—all symptoms of fear immediately dissipated. "… y-you can hit me! Hit me with all your strength!"

And… Seiichi paused.

He did not utter a _single_ thing.

He continued to stare at the shivering boy in the bed, who now held onto his blankets for dear life with eyes screwed shut.

Then… he laughed. He laughed and _laughed,_ simply too humored by this strange boy's unexpected antics. He laughed until his stomach hurt, replacing the pain everywhere else on his body with tender warmth. Hitoshi's cheeks flushed into a shade of wild red and he immediately balled his uninjured hand into a shaking fist. "D-Don't laugh at me, just cause I'm a bit small! I'm being serious! Hit me!"

"E-Eh?" Seiichi struggled not to fall into another fit of laughter, but failed to hide the trailing snickers. "I'm not going to hit you, Matsumoto-san. That's the kind of thing only try-hard gangsters from the 90s do. Even if you admire their morals, as I do too, I'm just not that kind of person."

"Th-Then…" he nodded confidently. "Then I'll do it myself!"

In one swift movement, Seiichi was on the bed. He clasped a hand around the boy's wrist, keeping it in a vice grip as he held it at a safe distance away from the boy's body. Hitoshi, who had not expected for Seiichi's reflexes to be so terrifyingly on point, stared at Seiichi in amazement.

"… Whoa."

Seiichi flashed him a dark look. "What? You weren't expecting much from a _sick_ kid?"

"U-Um… actually—never mind." he mumbled.

Seiichi then let go of his wrists and cocked his head to the side, studying this odd specimen breathing before him. He was averagely small, and judging by appearances, Seiichi would've assumed him to be weak and docile. He had really, honestly anticipated Hitoshi to be… well, a _girly-boy_ (not that there was anything wrong with that). He had also not forgotten about the flower crowns and flower book from his first visit.

Yet… here he was, demanding that Seiichi clock him one because of his straight-forwardness. Before he knew it, a considerate smile had touched his lips.

"You're…" Seiichi began, lifting a hand. Just as Hitoshi's eyes were meeting with his, Seiichi flicked the tip of his nose. "… a strange one, Matsumoto-san."

"I-I learned from the best, of course!" proudly beamed the beige-blonde as he begun rubbing the red spot that formed from where Seiichi had flicked. Seiichi raised an eyebrow. "And who is it that you learned from, Matsumoto-san?"

"My best friend Tohru, of course," Hitoshi grinned ecstatically, "He's my teacher, though we're both the same age and in the same grade. He's cool and _super_ tough. Right now he's teaching me how to fight! He's also trying to get me into sports, but I've never really been into that sort of thing… he's still my most precious friend though, even if we're a bit different."

Ah, and there it was, that sudden glint in his ocean eyes that shined so brightly whenever he spoke of this… this _'Tohru'_ person.

"Tell me… does this 'Tohru' play tennis? Is he in the tennis club?" Seiichi questioned—partly out of genuine interest and partly out of humor. In reply, Hitoshi nodded in a much vigorous manner, continuing to throw and catch the tennis ball that rested in his hand. "Yeah. He's in the tennis club. But he often complains that he doesn't do much and all he ever does is harsh training."

The blue-haired boy glowered to himself. "Well, that harsh training is what's going to help his terrible movements."

Hitoshi replied to Seiichi's words with a blank gaze.

"Y'know, I said _I_ was rude, but you're no better."

At that, Seiichi chuckled. He never explicitly said anything about being a nice person, now did he? However, he kept silent on the matter and instead gazed at the tennis ball that was being tossed so nonchalantly. It vaguely reminded him of the late afternoons he spent in the locker room, subsequent to a long, tiresome day on the tennis courts. He would always sit idly, tossing a worn tennis repeatedly as he soaked in the silence that would settle around him.

And, he couldn't help but to wonder… how was Gen'ichirou and the others doing? ( _Probably just fine, seeing as they never visit_ ).

Were they training without any issue? ( _If Gen'ichirou's there, the word 'issue' has no meaning_ ).

Was everything functioning just fine? ( _Renji would take care of any technical problems_ ).

Were they putting good use to their training menus and time? ( _They had better be, because if even a second to their training is wasted to irrelevant matters, I will personally_ smite _them_ ).

How desperate Seiichi was, to return to the green asphalt courts that he ruled with such power and control.

But he would most definitely return to his throne—even if he had to climb from the very depths of _Hell._

For now, however… he'd have to rely on the will of his men.

"Yukimura-san." Hitoshi suddenly spoke up, breaking Seiichi from his thoughts. The blue-haired boy pointed his attention to the boy, who now held the tennis ball to his chest. "Do you have someone you really, really care about? And maybe… _admire,_ I guess."

Seiichi's eyebrow lifted in question. "I suppose you're asking if I have my own 'Tohru'. Not a strange question, but why do you ask?"

Hitoshi's steady gaze shifted towards the window, and he quietly tilted his head, averting his eyes elsewhere. He said nothing to Seiichi, but continued to play with the neon ball in his hand. He seemed to be refusing to answer.

A dry laugh left Seiichi's lips, and he turned towards the door. "Yeah, I have someone that I think highly of. I'll even admit that I somewhat admire him… as an equal."

"If one day he were to…" Hitoshi's gentle voice trailed to nothing. And just as Seiichi had once again regarded Hitoshi, he was immediately met with overwhelmingly fierce eyes. "If he were to one day leave your life, what would you do?"

"What would I…" the blue-haired boy's eyebrows creased together as he continued, "Why are you asking such an odd question, boy?"

Hitoshi huffed in exasperation—exasperation that was probably more to himself than to Seiichi. "Never mind… you don't need to tell me. I'm just… it's nothing."

The beige-blonde proceeded to turn his head, staring fixedly out the window at nothing in particular. He said nothing more to Seiichi. In fact, it was as though Seiichi's presence in the room had suddenly faded into the silence. Using this to his advantage, Seiichi took his chance to shift closer towards the boy. Once he felt that he was at an appropriate distance, he had begun to study Hitoshi.

He scrutinized the foreign features of his face, breaking down and analyzing every flick of his eyes down to each breath that he took.

He was so different now, Hitoshi. Despite only having met him once, the change was clear.

While there was still such a strange, soothing thing about being near this boy, Seiichi realized… perhaps it was the drugs that had caused things to be so different, but Hitoshi was clearly more distressed. There wasn't any sign of warmth in his eyes. Actually, the longer Seiichi surveyed this boy, it started to dawn onto him just how _familiar_ the look in his ocean-blue eyes were.

 _Desperation._

A deep sigh left Seiichi's lips and he lifted himself off the bed with an apt amount of struggle. He shuffled towards the door, but just as he was about to leave, something willed him to turn back around.

Hitoshi was staring at him with those piercing ocean eyes. Seiichi was not at all fazed by the fixed gaze, however, and graced a calm smile.

"Bye, Matsumoto-san. I'll come visit again."

The farewell was returned with a tense silence.

* * *

「10 p.m.」

* * *

Bedtime for Seiichi was usually somewhere around eleven at night, since he was mostly up detailing training menus and whatnot.

But, ever since he'd been admitted to Kanai General Hospital, he found that he was getting into the habit of submitting to sleep around ten. He still spent some his spare time planning up schedules for the tennis club of course, but Gen'ichirou and Renji were so insistent that he not focus on tennis that Seiichi begun slacking.

This night was one of those occasional nights where he fought fiercely to keep his eyes open, and used the dim light of a small handheld flashlight to scribble notes into his planner. Tips on how to improve Akaya's serves, ways Bunta and Kuwahara could ameliorate their doubles performance, all the usual notes he'd take on a normal night before bed.

But really—the words on his planner were beginning to look like _chicken scratch._ Seiichi could barely read his own handwriting—the exhaustion accumulating from inside finally taking its toll on his body.

He took this as a sign that if he did not recede to bed now, his planner would suffer inky consequences. Thus, he closed his book and set it aside. He turned off his flashlight and altered his position in bed until he was comfortable.

 _'Is tonight's dream going to be forgotten in the morning, or would it be yet another haunting experience?'_ he thought to himself dryly before closing his eyes and enveloping the full darkness.

Some few minutes later, Seiichi begun to feel himself dozing off.

However… there was the unmistakable sound of his door cracking open, which shot him back into the realms of consciousness. He lifted his head at a slight angle over his shoulder (and honestly half-expected some ghostly apparition to be there), squinting to see what was between the crack of his open door. Something blue glinted within the darkness of the rift and Seiichi quickly came to the chilling realization that it was an _eye._

Hm. Amusing. Seiichi had never been one to believe in the supernatural, but if tonight he were to be attacked by something paranormal, he thought that he may very well—

"Um, Yukimura-san?"

Seiichi recognized that hushed tone in a heartbeat. His suspicions were only confirmed when the door jarred open and a head peeked in. The light-beige hair and bright blue eyes gave it all away. After realizing these factors, Seiichi lifted himself up against his pillows wearing a rueful smile.

"Matsumoto-san?"

 _'And here silly-me thought that I was about to have my own ghastly experience. I really am slacking.'_

Hitoshi took tentative steps towards Seiichi, stopping a few feet at his bedside. His eyes were trained on the tile floor as he slipped his hand into his pocket, fishing his fingers around in it for a bit. Seiichi waited in patience for the boy's next move until he finally pulled something out…

… a slip of paper?

Hitoshi set it down onto the bedside table. "I found this on my bed and thought it was probably yours. Also, before you ask, I'm just going to tell you now that I left it folded the way it was. I'm only returning it."

Seiichi nodded with a degree of politeness. "Thank you. Was that all?"

"Uh… yeah." the boy murmured before turning back around. Seiichi watched him as he started towards the door, gazing at his receding back until he finally opened the door again. Just as Hitoshi begun to exit, for reasons unknown, Seiichi had the sudden urge to call his name.

"Wait, Matsumoto-san."

Hitoshi froze. Slowly, he turned around.

"… Yes?"

"Good night," Seiichi murmured. He didn't even smile when he said it, but the words had already slipped from his lips. Perhaps he did it out of basic mannerisms. Hitoshi on the other hand did smile. It was an awkward, lopsided quirk of his lips, but still a smile in the least. "… 'Night."

The door clicked as it shut behind him. Once Hitoshi had left, Seiichi picked up the folded paper. After unfolding and straightening out the deep creases, he couldn't help but smile at what he found.

It was a training menu Gen'ichirou planned out and he gave it to Seiichi in hope of any input the blue-haired boy could have—one of the only times that Gen'ichirou ever asked Seiichi for help.

He set it back down onto the bedside table and then eased himself into bed once more, unconsciously forgetting about the fear of waking up in yet another cold-sweat as he closed his eyes and fell to sleep.

That night, Seiichi dreamed of green asphalt courts and a vast azure sky empty of clouds.

* * *

 **[A/N] - [Read if you want to]**

 **I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE TO ANYONE WHO GENUINELY ENJOYED GDDD (GROWING DAISIES, DAISIES, DAISIES), BUT I HAVE STOPPED WRITING IT. Yes, this is a remake for a remake. Why? Because I am a shitty writer, and it seems that I can't enjoy any of my works (besides the character pairing oneshots, I actually like those).**

 **The problem with GDDD was that it lacked a story. I couldn't come up with a plausible plot, and Yukimura isn't the type to just randomly decide to become friends with someone he doesn't know. Also, it was starting to seem like just a bunch of oneshots.**

 **In addition, there was a problem with my OC, Hitoshi Matsumoto. I had planned for him to have more character than the typical uke, but shit happened and that's what ended up happening. So Matsumoto in this fanfic—at least I'm hoping—is going to have more personality. I'm also going to try to make him act more like a boy, and not... well, not the typical submissive uke.**

 **There will be notable changes, and I actually spent a lot of time planning this series thoroughly. While GDDD had a more pomp atmosphere, this story's going to have a more slice-of-life feel to it. So, I hope you enjoy this version better, and thank you to those who are giving this remake a chance!**


	2. Friendship

Chapter 02: Friendship

 _"Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind._  
 _'Pooh!' he whispered._  
 _'Yes, Piglet?'_  
 _'Nothing,' said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw. 'I just wanted to be sure of you.'"_

\- A.A. Milne, _The House at Pooh Corner_

* * *

The following morning, Seiichi woke from his deep sleep rather early. It was at least somewhere around six (according to the perpetually ticking clock on the wall) when he stirred, and the coming sunrise was just beginning to peek shyly through transparent window curtains. Slowly, Seiichi returned to full consciousness.

He could already feel last night's dream fading from his memories, and the only thing he could recall now was a brilliantly azure sky. Ah... what was it that he had seen in that vision? Perhaps something to do with tennis. Seiichi couldn't imagine otherwise.

He sat up against his pillows quietly, cupping a hand over his mouth as he emitted a soft yawn. For the first time in weeks, he'd finally gotten a good night's rest—albeit, he _did_ still experience an achy stiffness shared among his limbs. Nonetheless, Seiichi could sense today's good weather.

Without thinking, the blue-haired boy proceeded to _painfully_ tug his fingers through his dark mess of impossibly tangled waves. He winced and scowled, inwardly cursing his innocent curls for being so darn fussy in the mornings. After a few more minutes of this _unbearable_ agony, he decided without the assistance of a mirror that it was—in the very least—presentable.

Hey—simply because Seiichi was in the hospital that did _not_ mean that he'd become apathetic to his own appearances. As the dignified junior he was, it was only proper that he continued to look nice (not to mention perfectly _sane_ ) for all his doctors and nurses.

Seiichi had still woken pretty early, however. His nurse wouldn't be coming in to check on him until another hour or so.

He would just use this free time to do something productive then, he concluded rather easily. Now, where did he put that little planner of his?

He slipped a hand underneath his pillow and patted around useless—seeing as he'd completely forgotten where he put it the night before—before his eyes flickered over to the bed stand. Lo and behold, lying perfectly still on its surface, was his long-lost planner. Seiichi huffed at his own stupidity for having not checked the bed stand first and plucked it off.

He flipped past several pages of past notes and doodles before he finally found his most recent entries. He set the planner down onto his lap and grabbed his pen from where he left it. He would continue where he stopped (which was an extensively detailed paragraph on Bunta's stamina issues).

Seiichi did this for some thirty-plus minutes until his mind proceeded to drift off into the toxic space of lethargy. He hastily finished off a passage concerning the atrocities of Kuwahara and Akaya's serves, then promptly closed his agenda. The object was set back onto the surface of the bedside table (it was to go unnoticed until Seiichi was in the mood to _lovingly_ spite his teammates again) and he quietly decided it was time for a break.

He threw his legs over the edge of his bed; however he did not bother to put on his slippers. Standing up was a real chore, but Seiichi managed to heave himself out of bed and onto his own two feet. He wasn't in as much pain as he was the past few days, thank goodness.

He took a few trying steps against the cold tile floor in direction of the window and he separated the blinds to look over the cluttered scenery.

Kanagawa was always prettiest in the early hours of the morning, when the sun just began to bless the sleepy town with its soft rays. Where Seiichi stood, he could see over numerous buildings beginning to form themselves at the touch of light; the streets still empty (save for the early birds). There was also snow leftover from last week's snowfall powdered among the setting, but Seiichi was already well-aware that there would be even _more_ mid-January.

 _'Poor Gen'ichirou. He'll have to shovel his entire property.'_ Seiichi pitied, and his brown eyes narrowed. His sympathetic expression wavered into one of amusement in the next second, however, when he reminded himself of the fact that Gen'ichirou wasn't the type to complain of such things. He would probably turn it into some form of winter training. While musing it over, Seiichi couldn't resist the smile already forming.

He wouldn't have expected any less from Gen'ichirou.

Seiichi then returned his attention to the view outside, and he admired the sight for a long time. It wasn't until the numbness in his legs started to become more unbearable that he drew away from the window. He was reluctant to separate from such a beautiful sight, but resting was of a higher priority in his physical state. He walked back to his bed and eased himself onto it carefully. The hospital beds weren't the most comfortable beds in the world (Seiichi's bed back at home won that award), but he would have to make do with what he got.

Seiichi altered his position in bed for a second. Again, the hospital beds weren't the most comfortable things in the world. But as soon as he felt at rest, he let out a particularly deep sigh of boredom and spread out his arms in a lazy flop. What to do, what to do...

He lay in bed uselessly as a limp doll would, and spent the longest time staring up at the blank ceiling. It was going to drive him insane one day, that bland shade of white that surrounded him day-by-day. Seiichi fondly thought back to the beautiful sight he'd seen just earlier, then bitterly thought about how monochrome his own little world—which was now settled in an insanely boring hospital room—was becoming in comparison.

 _'It's unfair.'_

 _How is it unfair? Fate is so merciless; Fate does not cower against even a God._

 _'But what did I do to deserve_ this?'

 _You lived, of course. **To live is to suffer.**_

 _'... And **to survive is find some meaning in the suffering.** What... utter _ bullshit.'

How was Seiichi supposed to survive without tennis? If tennis was taken away from him, there would be nothing but _ashes_ left. Tennis made him feel so alive, so powerful, so **in control,** _damn it!_ There _was no meaning_ to his life if tennis was stolen away from him! Seiichi was _empty_ without the strength and adrenaline that surged through him as he darted back and forth on the green asphalt court—his vast kingdom! There was _nothing_ better— _nothing_ that could possibly compare to the feeling of victory rewarded after ruthlessly overpowering his opponent! Tennis _was_ the only way he survived!

 _So how the hell would Seiichi live without the fervor tennis granted him?!_

In a fit of anger that bubbled uncontrollably inside him, Seiichi quickly sat up and made a clumsy grab for the planner on the bed stand. Once it was within the palm of his shaking hand, he flung it recklessly across the room. It slammed against the wall with a loud thud before falling to the ground in limp fashion. Loose pages flew askew across the room, leaving behind a mess of papers.

Seiichi's chest heaved alongside his deep, ragged breaths. His fury was beginning to fade, but still Seiichi trembled. Some few minutes passed before he ran a shaky hand through his mess of dark waves. He forced a pathetic smile onto his pale face. If anyone else were in the room with him, they'd easily see through such a plastic grin.

"... And I was having such a good morning." he whispered, the soft hoarseness of his voice ringing throughout the room's eerie silence.

Seiichi fell back against the mattress and stared back up to the white plaster ceiling that initiated his brief temper tantrum. He scowled irritably, but had no further fits of anger. His previous outburst had him considerably tuckered out. So, instead Seiichi opted to simply turn on his side and focus on the empty vase set upon the bed stand.

He hadn't been thinking of anything in particular... except maybe about how easily irritable he'd been lately. Being held at the hospital for so long made it ten times harder to keep his polite demeanor. His dark-brown eyes glazed over with a sort of melancholic disappointment, and he sunk even deeper into the bed's covers.

 _'If I could play tennis again...'_ he thought to himself numbly, _'... I'd be... happier...'_

* * *

「8:03 a.m.」

* * *

Seiichi didn't remember when he fell back asleep, but he _must_ have at some point during the morning since his nurse was standing just a few feet away from him (and he didn't recall her coming in). She did not seem to notice that he'd woken, as her attention was on the documents clipped onto her green clipboard. When Seiichi awkwardly sat up, he lifted his head and stretched his neck for a better view.

She was taking notes. It was more than likely those notes were about him.

Seiichi cleared his throat, and watched with light humor as her shoulders jerked in a sudden upward movement. She spun her head and held her clipboard tightly against her bosom, her eyes several inches wide. The expression on her white face reminded him of cheesy comic book characters who'd caught sight of something spooky.

She stared at Seiichi for a moment before huffing peevishly. It was obvious that the woman disapproved of Seiichi's amusement. "Yukimura-kun! You startled me there!" she scolded as soon as her heartbeat caught its pace again.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Seiichi smiled. It wasn't very apologetic. "I was only trying to get your attention."

His nurse sighed. The children in the hospital were going to drive her _insane_ one day. With a click of her tongue, she regarded back to the papers in her clipboard and scribbled in a few more notes. Once finished, she returned her attention to the blue-haired boy. "Well, today you don't have a lot to do. Just a few examinations and you'll be done."

"Oh... okay." Seiichi nodded. "Thank you. Is that all?"

"Yes, that should be it." she chirped. But as she reached the door, she turned back around. "Oh, by the way, a friend of yours has come to visit. I'll be leaving the two of you to yourselves, so absolutely _no_ funny business."

Seiichi blinked. Someone other than family was coming to visit him?

He immediately straightened his hunched back and waited for the nurse to leave. After she opened the door, she murmured a few inaudible things to his mysterious visitor before letting him inside. And much to the blue-haired boy's pleasant surprise, he realized his visitor to be none-other-than his vice-captain.

"Ah..."—he smiled, a tinge of surprise lighting his eyes—"Sanada!"

The stoic teen emitted a low grunt. In one hand was a small plastic bag and in the other was his beloved black cap (that he started wearing frequently again). Without another second of hesitation, his vice-captain walked closer to his bedside. Seiichi glanced to his closing door before looking back to his friend. With a curious grin, he pointed at the bag. "What's that?"

"This?" Gen'ichirou lifted the plastic thing. "It's some items I bought for you. I imagined you would be bored here with nothing to do, but I wasn't sure what you would like. Forgive me if I didn't bring anything useful to you."

He opened the bag and pulled out a pack of pencils, erasers, and pens. The assortments of things were set onto Seiichi's lap and the blue-haired boy stared down each of the items carefully. They weren't the types he preferred using but he was none-the-less gratified by Gen'ichirou's generosity. He smiled a genuinely thankful smile to Gen'ichirou, and he set the gifts atop the bed stand. "Thank you, Sanada. I was in need of these."

"Mm."

There was a pause, a soft silence between the two comrades. It seemed like a hundred years passed by before Seiichi opened his mouth.

"How is the tennis club doing? Are you handling everything just fine?"

"We are managing perfectly with your absence. However, Akaya asks about you often, and the rest of the regulars still seem to be on edge." Gen'ichirou replied, tension settling in his auburn eyes. Seiichi smiled. "Make sure that Akaya doesn't become distracted by my lack of presence. As do the others. It'll have horrible results."

"Will do." Gen'ichirou nodded. "... Then, we will continue waiting for your inevitable return, _Seiichi."_

Seiichi's eyes widened. Gen'ichirou hadn't called him by his first name in a very long time. Though his reaction of surprise only lasted for a few seconds before his lips shaped into a broad grin. "Don't dawdle. While I am gone, I am depending on you to keep Rikkai's position of power among all the other schools. Prove Rikkai's superiority, _Gen'ichirou."_

"Of course." Gen'ichirou murmured. He set his black cap over his head and pulled it down. "Kantou Regionals doesn't start until early July. Until then, the regulars will be training rigorously. Any form of slacking off will **not** be tolerated."

 _"Good."_ Seiichi smiled approvingly. He then leaned back into his pillows, grabbing the pack of pencils Gen'ichirou had bought him. He started working on opening the plastic casing as he casually asked, "On a different note, why hasn't Renji visited me yet? Is he busy?"

"He was supposed to accompany me today, but unfortunately there was a last-minute family reunion. He would have to visit another time." Gen'ichirou sighed. Seiichi laughed quietly under his breath. Once the case of pencils was open, he took one and looked around for his planner... which he'd just now realized was lying perfectly still at the foot of his bed. Looking back on it, Seiichi had in fact flung it across the room earlier, but he certainly did not remember picking it up.

Then it came to mind that it must have been the nurse.

With a silent sigh, Seiichi leaned forward and took it into his hand. "What did the nurse say to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Before you came in here. The nurse whispered something to you. What was it?" Seiichi asked, and he looked through the book. All his pages were intact, the torn ones stuffed neatly into their proper spots. Seiichi had to admit, he somewhat admired that nurse of his for taking the time to put his book back together.

"It wasn't anything too important. Just a few things about choosing wise words, and being mindful of your situation." Gen'ichirou replied. He folded his arms and stared at the planner. "The woman doesn't look it, but she does seem to sympathize with you, Yukimura."

"Hmph." Seiich scoffed. "The last thing I want is _anyone's_ sympathy."

"..."

"But... I suppose you shouldn't hate someone for simply caring." Seiichi murmured as a small spiteful smile formed on his lips. He lifted his eyes towards Gen'ichirou, who stared ahead and out the window with folded arms. The vice-captain said nothing in response, but Seiichi could tell that Gen'ichirou silently approved of his answer.

"Was there anything else you came to visit me for, Sanada?" Seiichi asked as he begun to sketch a small daisy on a blank page in his planner.

"No... I've already done all that I wanted to." Gen'ichirou replied offhandedly, and he turned to head towards the door. "I'll be leaving now, then. I'm sorry if this was a rather short visit, but I have to help out at grandfather's dojo. He has a few rowdy students, so he's expecting me to assist him."

"Ah... bye then. Come visit any time you want to." Seiichi waved goodbye to his leaving friend, and once the door was shut behind the teen Seiichi fell back against his pillows. His planner and new pencil now lay abandoned on his legs as he stared up at the bland ceiling with a blank expression.

It was so quiet now...

... in fact, it was almost _too_ quiet.

* * *

「10:47 a.m.」

* * *

Hitoshi was used to being alone—in fact, for most of his childhood he was by himself.

He wasn't the most social of kids his age, and he spent his time doing unusual things (i.e., catching seagulls or tying upside down teru teru bozu on his window sill). He had only one best friend and a lovely ginger tabby cat named, "Cat". No, not pronounced in Japanese. The way "Cat" sounded in English, the way it clicked on his tongue, he rather liked it. He'd also grown accustomed to the strange looks given to him when he told this to wondering outsiders.

When Hitoshi wasn't accompanying Tohru on any of his shenanigans, he was certainly enjoying the day's good weather with Cat.

Now of course, the hospital had a strict "NO ANIMALS" policy. That meant Cat wouldn't be allowed to visit. Tohru didn't visit much either, for personal reasons he refused to tell Hitoshi. 'I'll tell you tomorrow', he'd always say, but never did. Hitoshi tried not to care much though. He was sure that whatever the reason could be, if Tohru was so reluctant to tell, surely it wasn't any of his business.

His parents came for visits frequently but could not stay long. His father had work to do and his mother needed to care for Cat, his little toddler brother Satoshi, and the house. In other words, Hitoshi often found himself with lots of free time and no one to spend it with.

To pass the long hours, Hitoshi slept, endlessly daydreamed, or added flowers to his encyclopedia of flora. Sometimes if he was given the material, he'd make teru teru bozu and give them all to his nurse. When his mother visited, she'd give to him origami paper his grandmother mailed. Hitoshi often folded lucky stars and cranes (those would also be given to his nurse). This was all done while his casted arm was more movable, of course.

Hitoshi enjoyed the solitude he received from being in the hospital. It awarded him plenty of time to let his imagination roam free and kept him out of trouble. It would seem that most of the time Hitoshi thought about Cat, with the rest of his thoughts being focused on things trivial to his situation. While Hitoshi wasn't much of an abstract thinker, he did also have a few times where he'd ponder over the complex puzzles in his head.

But Hitoshi had to admit, with a pinch of melancholy, being in the hospital was rather lonely. He'd only been in there for a week or two, but it seemed like years would go by without any human interaction. Of course, that wasn't the case. His nurse would come in to check up on him occasionally and on rare instances even children peeked into his room from curiosity. They never stuck around for long though.

Hitoshi just felt... _isolated_ sometimes, is all.

No Cat and no Tohru to keep him company.

Then again, there was that other boy. The one his age. Seiichi Yukimura. Hitoshi didn't know if Seiichi would come visit him again, but strangely enough he hoped that he _wouldn't._

Seiichi Yukimura didn't look it, but he was very eerily intimidating. His eyes were dark and cold—his smile sweet but empty. And as fragile as the boy looked—Hitoshi could sense the immense strength that the boy hid from him.

Perhaps it was Hitoshi's fault on his part for having let appearances fool him but he still did not want to be under such pressure. He could remember how Tohru always regarded the blue-haired boy like he was an ethereal deity but personally Hitoshi wasn't very interested in pleasing gods. He was doing just fine avoiding them and living another timeless day.

Like today. Today was one of those timeless days.

Just... just slightly more _unbearable._

Tohru hadn't visited for two days straight and Hitoshi just ran out of material to make his millionth teru teru bozu. He had only one now and giving it to his nurse seemed like a bad idea (Hitoshi only just begun to notice the distress in her features every time he forced an armful of them into her hands). Furthermore, he wasn't in the mood for origami nor did he have anything to add to his homemade encyclopedia. His flower crowns were thrown away and he did not want to use the daisies his grandmother handpicked.

In other words, Hitoshi was experiencing the horrible thing labelled _"boredom"._

Fortunately, the solution he found to this dreadful illness was mindless daydreaming (an activity he'd grown accustomed to doing). Thus, he lied in bed, listening to the sounds which came from all around him, with the most predominant sound being the soft ticking of the clock on his wall. It was so slow, so patient, as if to tell Hitoshi, 'Days like these should be cherished anyways.'

 _'Well, yeah, but how do you enjoy a boring day?'_ he questioned to no one in particular. _'What's a boy to do without his friend or cat?'_

Hitoshi normally didn't complain, and he did his best to value all that he received from life, but sometimes he couldn't help but to feel like some... _empty_ shell. Plain and without purpose.

After letting out a quiet sigh, Hitoshi rolled over to his side and stared out the open hospital window. It was such nice weather outside today. Clear blue winter skies, with only a few puffs of white cotton clouds strewn about. The day was bright but the air was chilly. Some of that cold air even begun to seep into the room, but it wasn't exactly _freezing_ yet.

Hitoshi pulled the covers closer to his chin and shifted his legs. He slipped a hand under his pillow as he gazed out the window, still listening to the ticking of the clock. It was a shame that such good weather was being wasted on an incredibly bland day.

Then, from behind, Hitoshi caught the soft squeaking of the door to his room. Someone was coming inside. However, it was too slow to be his nurse simply checking up on him. It was as though the person in question was reluctant to come inside his room.

Hitoshi was actually surprised, to say the least. He wasn't expecting it to be his mother, since she usually came during the afternoon. Perhaps it was his older brother Tadashi, or maybe even...

Hitoshi's lips shaped into a broad grin as he immediately bounced up in bed. The door carefully eased open, and lo and behold—standing there at the doorway uncharacteristically timid was his one and only _best friend_. His short brown hair was still disheveled since he was lazy during mornings, and he wore his pajamas. Tohru always went to bed wearing large t–shirts and gym shorts, so when he was feeling extra-sluggish he could just step out into public and still look at least mildly sane.

Tohru smiled sheepishly and waved. "Yo! Hitoshi!"

He approached the beaming boy and sat himself down at his bedside. "Sorry I haven't visited in a while. You know, I've been real busy n' stuff..."

Hitoshi shook his head in protest and grinned brightly. "No problem! I'm just glad you came to visit me, since it's been a while when you last visited. But say... you're not stressing over this 'stuff' of yours too much, are you? You look like _you're_ the one who got hit by a car!"

 _'Oh, **I** look I was hit by a car?'_ Tohru thought as he leaned back into the bed, his hands sinking deep into the blankets. He looked up to the ceiling while he heaved a heavy sigh. He then shifted his gaze back to his blue-eyed friend. Hitoshi was covered in bruises and bandages from head to toe. The white elastic things were wrapped especially thick around his head. His arm was still in a cast, though it was now significantly smaller... and _Tohru_ was the one who looked like he got hit by a car?

The brunet's stare became somewhat remorseful. He couldn't help but feel... _responsible_ for Hitoshi's accident.

 _'After all... you were probably riding that bike of yours to my place.'_

His expression scrunched into a frown. "Well... I'd be lying to ya if I said I wasn't stressing over anything."

Hitoshi's chipper smile fell. "Oh... d'you wanna talk about it? If you don't..."

"Nah, I figured I'd have to tell you sooner or later..." Tohru admitted ruefully. He then smiled a _regretful_ smile as he straightened his slouching back. He spent so long trying to avoid the truth, but it would be unfair to keep Hitoshi in the dark. "I shouldn't have tried to keep it a secret from you for so long..."

"Keep what a secret?"

There was reluctance in those brown eyes of his, reluctance that Hitoshi failed to miss. What was going on? Why was Tohru acting so... so _strange?_ Normally he was incredibly bouncy and full of energy! Where was that mischievous smile? That cheeky glint in his eyes that shone brightly when he was up for some fun? He was being so... abnormally _quiet._ It was even making Hitoshi grow somewhat paranoid.

"T-Tohru...? What were you trying to hide from me? What's wrong?" Hitoshi murmured, tilting his head. Tohru pursed his lips and wrung his hands together uncomfortably. "Well... I... er, remember when I told you that I might be moving?"

Hitoshi's heart dropped to his stomach. Oh yes, he remembered that. Around the first time Tohru came to visit him, he had spilled the news to Hitoshi. While Hitoshi was initially a bit panicked, Tohru was more amused by Hitoshi's fear and reassured him that his parents were probably just talking. 'No way that's gonna happen', he'd said. 'They're probably just saying things', he'd laughed.

"Y-Yeah... but... but that was just a joke, wasn't it?" Hitoshi laughed, despite the slight quiver in his timid voice. "You wouldn't actually move from Kanagawa, would you?"

There was pain in Tohru's expression. Somewhere deep in his chest, there was a hurting he knew wouldn't heal. Though, Hitoshi was probably in more pain than he, considering how lonely his world was in comparison to Tohru's. Tohru was well-aware that he could make friends with anyone anywhere at any time, but he was also aware that he'd been Hitoshi's _only_ best friend.

They'd been brothers since childhood, and throughout all their years of friendship Hitoshi never once had eyes for anyone else.

"I'm not lying." Tohru murmured as he shook his head. "We spent the last few days packing up, which is why I never visited much. We'll be moving tomorrow afternoon..."

"I-Is it far? Where you're going, is it far?!" cried Hitoshi, his voice urgent and hopeless. His eyes were wide like saucers as he asked this, and he held onto his blankets tightly. Why did Tohru decide to tell him this _now?!_ How could he just... just break it to him like this?! By tomorrow afternoon he would be leaving! Gone forever!

"We're moving to Hokkaido... and we probably won't be moving back." Tohru murmured in a soft, but numb, tone. His blue-eyed friend collapsed against his pillows in silence. In fact, everything in the room was consumed by silence... even the calm ticks of the clock. It wasn't until Hitoshi opened his mouth did all sound return.

"Wh... What am I going to do without you...?" he croaked softly. Tohru forced on a hopeful grin. "Hey, it's not like we'll never see each other... I'll probably come visit again during vacation..."

"But you won't be _here..._ by my side... like you always are... you're the only friend I have, Tohru...! You're the only one who understands me!" the light-beige haired boy protested. Tohru, again, forced another chipper grin. He patted Hitoshi's shoulder with a laugh. "Well... you still have Cat, don't you?"

"But Cat can't come to school with me, can he? He can't go riding bikes, prank around, or teach me how to fight!" Hitoshi cried in return—his voice cracking at the last word.

At this, Tohru fell silent again. He truthfully had no idea what to say to his torn friend... what _was_ there to say? 'Well, too bad, you better go find a new friend then'. Yeah, cause that would make everything so much better.

"... I'm sorry, Hitoshi. I was so scared of telling you that... it became too late. I should have tried to tell you earlier, but I thought that by avoiding it... I thought that..." his voice trailed to a pause. Hitoshi didn't say anything for a while either. In fact, the two of them just stayed in their positions without a single exchange of words. It was as though they were still comforting each other—it may not have been vocally, but the other one's presence was simply enough.

It was a while until Tohru spoke again. He pat Hitoshi's shoulder gently before smiling, "Well... bye. I'll try to visit again tomorrow... before I leave."

With that, he sat up and straightened out the covers he sat on. Then he drew away from the bed hesitantly, inching towards the door slowly, and closed his hand around the knob. With reluctance, he opened the door and begun to make his exit.

'Bye, Tohru', is what Hitoshi wanted to say. But instead, like a stubborn child, his mouth was sewn shut, and the clicking of a closing door resonated loudly throughout the room's continued silence.

* * *

「12:15 p.m.」

* * *

Seiichi was, in crude words, fucking _exhausted._

The nurse had said the only thing he needed to do was a few examinations and such, but she never exactly relayed to him how _long_ and drawn out those examinations would be. Extended body checkups, early therapy, etc, etc.

Seiichi was already prepared to retire into bed and take the longest nap possible. Maybe he would even break world record (if that was even possible). To be honest, he wouldn't have minded falling into an eternal coma. A coma seemed better than the hell he was going through on a daily basis now.

He trudged down the halls in stiff shuffles, moving slowly with time. Not much else was on his mind (other than the desire to take a nap) as he plodded along. But while he walked idly, he suddenly stopped in placed without reason... and he turned his head.

He stopped in front of a door. On the plaque next to it, it read in bold silver, "ROOM 405". It was that one boy's room, the one with clear blue eyes. Hitoshi Matsumoto was his name, Seiichi had quickly remembered.

They met a few days ago, while he was still drunk on his medication _._ Then they met again yesterday—twice, to be exact. The first time was when Seiichi came across the boy's stray tennis ball and the second time was when later on that night he'd come into his room to return a piece of paper.

Seiichi paused in thought as he stared at the door. While he was still utterly exhausted and wished for nothing more than a nap, he also wanted to make a quick visit. It was so boring in the hospital and the isolation was getting to him. There wasn't anyone else his age other than Hitoshi, so what would be the harm in making a friend in the hospital? Just someone to talk to... and pass the time with...

Then again, the boy wasn't _ill_ like he was. If Seiichi recalled correctly, the boy was hit by a car. He'd be in the hospital for at least a month, but no longer. Perhaps the boy would even be released by next week, since there were no signs of severe head trauma or need for therapy.

Seiichi frowned to himself. He was wasting time by dawdling in the hallway.

 _'Then I will make just a hasty stop. I'll say hi, make small talk, and then take my leave.'_ he concluded.

Seiichi took a step towards the door and closed a hand around the knob. But before he could open it, he suddenly paused where he stood. From within the room... there was a faint... a faint—but strange—sound. It resembled the sniffling of a teary being. Seiichi cocked his head towards the door in interest. What was that? Was someone crying? Was it... the boy?

Some few minutes of eavesdropping later, Seiichi concluded that what he'd been listening to was in fact the sounds of a crying boy. To be specific, a crying boy with ocean eyes.

 _'Whatever it may be, it's not my business.'_ he internally declared to himself before turning on his heels. He wasn't going to stick his nose into a stranger's business. Additionally, he was tired and wanted just a small nap. But he'd only continue on his way a few feet before he halted in place yet again.

 _'But perhaps it would do some good to console the boy. What if he's hurt? I should check on him, just to be sure. After all, it'd be a shame if he'd hurt himself and I simply turned away out of apathy.'_

Thus Seiichi turned right back around and to the boy's room. Without hesitation he knocked on the door politely. "I'm coming in, Matsumoto-san. Please excuse me." he then opened the door and poked his head inside.

Sitting at the edge of the bed was Hitoshi Matsumoto (as Seiichi expected). He wiped away the tears on his face with the cuff of his shirt before glancing at Seiichi. "Oh... it's only you, Yukimura-san..."

Seiichi smiled. "Hm? Were you expecting someone else?"

The boy's gaze fell. He didn't answer Seiichi's inquire and simply stared at the tile floor. The blue-haired boy was left to sigh as he carefully shut the door behind himself. It seemed that he had forgotten how anti-social Hitoshi was during his last visit. "Is this a bad time?"

"... N-No... not really..." muttered Hitoshi as he ran his fingers through his light-beige hair. "Did you... uh, come here for something?"

"I only came to see how you were doing. Is there a problem?" Seiichi tilted his head and peered inquisitively at the other. The boy squirmed a bit under his prying gaze. It was like he was becoming raw right before the blue-haired boy, his hard-brown eyes digging into the deepest pits of his very being.

Strangely enough, however, Hitoshi didn't cringe away like most others would do under such a relentless stare. While he was noticeably edgy, he did not back down at the deity's presence. The boy was a little more odd than he was even and Seiichi found himself more amused than disturbed. A thin smile formed on his lips as he took closer steps towards Hitoshi's bed. "Do you mind if I sit next to you?"

"Huh? Er, not really, I guess..." Hitoshi scooted to the side and patted down the spot next to him. "Make yourself comfortable."

Seiichi sat down where the boy had pointed. He took a moment to get adjusted to the room's interior, it was so small. Even smaller than Seiichi's room. But despite the lack of space, there was still... there was still such a lovely atmosphere. It was melancholic, but calm and patient. It started to remind him of the glories of solitude.

"So... what's the real reason you came to see me?" Hitoshi questioned softly. Seiichi turned his head towards the boy and met with his piercing ocean eyes. There was something in those eyes, something about that sea-blue pigment that penetrated into Seiichi. Though his eyes still watered and his drying tears were left unattended to, the boy showed no signs of weakness.

But even Seiichi knew that tough exterior was already tarnished with gaping cracks.

He smiled tiredly. "I heard you crying from outside the door and wondered if you were in any trouble."

"Oh..." Hitoshi broke his stare. "It's... not really... anything impor... tant..."

"You sounded very unsure of yourself there."

"Well..." the boy sighed to himself. He scratched at his head in agitation and looked up at Seiichi again. "Remember when you came to visit me yesterday? And I asked you if you had someone you really admired? And what you would if he suddenly left?"

Seiichi blinked. "Oh... yes, I do. Why?"

"Well... what _would_ you do if he suddenly left? Like..." Hitoshi's eyes softened, the light in them flickering, "... like he has to move somewhere far away."

Seiichi cocked an eyebrow in curiosity. He gave Hitoshi a questioning glance before pointing it at no particular area of the room. _'What a strange question to be asking a total stranger',_ he thought to himself as the beige-blonde waited for a response. Then it'd finally hit him like a ton of rocks.

 _'Oh... this has something to do with that 'Tohru' boy, doesn't it?'_

"Hmm... what would I do without my friend? Well, I would be devastated of course. To lose someone so incredibly special to me..." Seiichi murmured in thought. It wasn't all a lie, too. The blue-haired boy couldn't imagine life without Gen'ichirou there at his side. He wouldn't be able to function properly with the absence of his closest friend. "But I suppose I wouldn't be alone. I have other friends as well. I would console with them, maybe even grow closer with one of them. I definitely wouldn't replace someone so special to me very easily—but I wouldn't exactly wallow in sorrow. I'd learn to accept the loss and carry on with my life."

Just then there was a _sob._ A very loud and very noticeable sob of _anguish._

Seiichi quickly turned his gaze towards Hitoshi in shock. The boy was crying again.

 _'O-Oh no... oh... he's... he's crying...'_

Seiichi always prided himself on being a compassionate person. Even though he had his dark times and the sweetness in his voice was usually artificial, he would always praise himself on being at least a good friend (even if sometimes it were all just an act). But here this boy was crying—he was even more broken than he already looked.

Just what had he said wrong?

"I... I _don't_ have anyone else...! _I have no one!_ There's no one else! I'm already alone enough as it is, it's so unbearable, I... I... I can't deal with it, it's so lonely everywhere I go I don't know what I'll do without him!" Hitoshi cried out in broken sobs. He choked and gasped on his words as his shoulders heaved with his chest—his hands and flushed cheeks were damp with tears. "Th-Th... Th..."

"Matsumoto-san..." Seiichi mumbled. He set a hesitant hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said that. I was being insensitive..."

Hitoshi shook his head.

"N-No... it's not y-your fault. Y-You're a complete stranger... s-so you wouldn't have... known anyways."

Seiichi honestly pitied the boy. A little more than he actually _sympathized_ with him, shamefully. But how was he supposed to understand a stranger's feelings? He barely knew the boy. All he really _could_ do was sit next to him awkwardly and hope for the best. After all, in a situation like this words were only just a nuisance, weren't they?

It wasn't until a while later that Hitoshi's crying eased. He was reduced to nothing but a sniffling mess when he looked back at Seiichi. The boy dried off his cheeks and took a deep shuddering breath. "I-I'm okay now, Yukimura-san. I'm sorry you had to see me like that. It m-must've been unpleasant."

"No... it wasn't. I'm sorry that I wasn't much help to you." Seiichi replied softly. He then smiled at him. "Will you be okay tomorrow?"

"..."

Hitoshi looked away in silence. Once it'd become clear that he didn't want to answer the question, Seiichi nodded his head and stood up. It was time to go.

"I'll be leaving, then. I'll come to visit another time Matsumoto-san. Take care of yourself." he murmured as he drew away from the bed.

Seiichi started to make his way towards the door, grabbing it and twisting the knob. But as he did yesterday, he stopped and turned around one last time.

The boy was still sitting in his same spot; his eyes trained intensely on the tile floor. Hitoshi was in another world.

 _'Ah... now I see.'_

Seiichi closed the door behind himself. He thought back to how patient the atmosphere around Hitoshi was—and how he'd never caught the deepness in it.

 _'There wasn't a lovely ambiance at all... simply loneliness masked as tolerance.'_

The blue-haired boy traveled back to his room in silence. Nothing was on his mind while he lied himself down on the stiff bed. In fact, once he turned over on his side and covered himself in a blanket, he realized that he wasn't even _tired_ anymore.

The image of a sobbing boy trapped in his own insecurities was engraved deep into his memories. It was all he could think about.

It must be awful... to live in a world without anyone to understand you.

Then Seiichi smiled a very plastic smile.

 _'Who am I kidding... I live in that world too.'_


	3. Ocean Eyes

Chapter 03: Ocean Eyes

 _"People say I make strange choices, but they're not strange for me. My sickness is that I'm fascinated by human behavior, by what's underneath the surface, by the worlds inside people."_

\- Johnny Depp

* * *

Hitoshi woke up feeling like a truck had slammed right into his head.

He hadn't experienced such an earsplitting headache since the day he was rushed into the hospital. The painful throbbing sensation pulsed through his head like an angry storm set on the worst wreckage possible. In this very moment, Hitoshi would've preferred even _death._

He groaned softly as he sat up in bed, massaging slow, tender circles into his pounding temples. He did this for a very long time, at least until the twinging in his head finally numbed to a dull ache that was more tolerable. The migraine still sent his head spinning, but at least he wasn't wishing for _death_ now.

The boy yawned slow and very climactic, raising his arms over his head as he did so. He stretched out his limbs until he heard the satisfying crack and pop of joints before standing on his feet. Despite being awake, his half-lidded eyes and swaying stature made it evident the curse of drowse was still hanging onto him. Another yawn left his lips.

Perhaps a little exploration of the hospital would do him some good. He hadn't really left his room ever since the day he was admitted into the hospital anyways. During the first few days of Hitoshi's arrival, he was usually drugged or in too much pain. The only times he was out was during check-ups, but those usually didn't happen until midday.

Besides, even once the worst of his injuries healed and scabbed, he was still very wary of the strangers that often occupied the halls. Hitoshi was always an awkward boy; he wasn't very good with strangers. But since it was morning there shouldn't be too many people awake, right?

As a small precaution, Hitoshi opened the door carefully and peeked out the open crack. The morning sunrise started to fill the white hallway, but it was completely void of any life. So much so that the boy was reluctant to go out again. Something about the eerie emptiness intimidated him more than any kind of stranger... like it was going to swallow him whole.

Regardless of Hitoshi's hesitancy, he stepped foot out of the comfort of his room and entered the empty hallway. It was so much bigger than it seemed before. Not in height, but in _length._ The hallway seemed to drone on forever, like a mysterious path leading to wonderland.

He started to walk forward. He wasn't planning to go anywhere specific; he was just going to explore here and there. But as he went on his way, as the clenched knots in his stomach finally began to undo themselves, he suddenly stopped in place. He paused in front of another door similar to his. On the silver plaque the letters read, **"ROOM 404"**.

It didn't occur to him until a long minute later that Seiichi Yukimura, the boy who would occasionally come to see him (and unfortunately witnessed Hitoshi's gross breakdown), was the one residing in this room. It took a moment, but Hitoshi could recall entering the blue-haired boy's room a day or two ago to return a piece of paper. He hadn't step foot into the other boy's room since, because well... what reason would he need to?

Then again, Seiichi Yukimura had entered _his_ room without any reason other than to say 'hi'. The first time was to deliver daisies, but he stayed on his own freewill (despite the fact that Hitoshi wasn't in his right mind during that time). The second time Hitoshi only wanted his tennis ball back, but again, Seiichi stayed to chat. The third time he'd come in was because he heard Hitoshi's crying and wanted to check on his wellbeing.

Now, Hitoshi was pretty naive for his age, even he knew that. But that didn't exactly mean he was _stupid._ He was well aware that Seiichi Yukimura didn't come to see him out of sympathy or loneliness. He wasn't positive on what the real reasons could be (nor did he particularly care), but still knew they weren't from _any_ variation of kindness.

Even so... Seiichi Yukimura was in the hospital because of an illness, right? He must have been going through _some_ sort of pain, yet he'd still take a bit of his time to visit Hitoshi. Even if it wasn't out of benevolence, Hitoshi felt entitled to giving at least some form of thanks. It would be more of a 'thanks for trying', but a 'thanks' nonetheless.

 _'... Maybe I'll visit him later today instead.'_ Hitoshi mused to himself as he stared at the closed door.

 _Maybe,_ being the key word. Just maybe. Because even if Hitoshi wanted to show his "gratitude" that didn't change the fact that there was something about the blue-haired boy that bothered him _immensely._

Maybe it was the way his ebony eyes were always so fierce, disassembling his entire existence into bits and pieces for his mental dissection. Or maybe it was the way he could be so soft and gentle, yet still let his presence be known through the sheer force of his _aura._

If Hitoshi were to sum up Seiichi Yukimura in one word, it would be... it would be _"powerful"._

Now, by no means was Hitoshi _scared_ of Seiichi Yukimura, no. But incredibly edgy around those prying gazes of his? Yes. Yes, that would've been quite accurate.

He continued to dawdle for a few seconds before continuing on his way down the hall. He would deal with this issue later.

In an attempt to ease his mind, Hitoshi gazed out the windows as he walked along, admiring the high-perspective view of the sleepy city. The roads were beginning to awaken, people were going about their mornings, and the sky was as blue as ever. It was almost even therapeutic.

In contrast, mornings in the hospital were eerily still and quiet—the only predominant sounds being the echoes of Hitoshi's bare feet against tiled floors. Then again, perhaps this part of the hospital wasn't as busy or something. Because what would this boy (who's never even left his room) know?

Once Hitoshi turned the corner of the hall, coming into a new one, something towards the end caught his eyes.

There were children there. Just two boys playing on the top of the staircase leading up to the floor Hitoshi was on. They didn't seem to notice him there, as they continued to roll their toy trucks around without so as much as even a glance at him.

Hitoshi watched the whispering boys for a moment, somewhat taken by the sight of them. The knots in his stomach began to twist and tangle into impossible hitches the longer he stood in place and stared. Thankfully they were still oblivious to his presence and extended gaze.

The boys continued to chatter quietly to each other—stifling giggles and punching the other's arms. The way they seemed so delightfully comfortable near the other...

... it reminded him of him and Tohru.

Hitoshi scoffed a bit to himself. He'd just spent all night sobbing into his pillow; the last thing he needed now was to envy the young boys playing together. He shook his head and continued forward.

The boys at first seemed surprised once they'd finally noticed him. Their eyes went wide and they fell silent and motionless. Hitoshi gave them an apologetic smile as he raised his fingers in a small wave, his show of friendliness initiating one of the boys to break into a wide grin and wave back excitedly. The boy's companion glanced at him in confusion before he immediately begun to imitate his ecstatic gestures.

Hitoshi chuckled quietly and continued to wave as he passed by the two, descending down the stairs to the next floor. He continued heading downstairs with the intention of exploring the hospital's ground level first, and working his way up.

There would probably be more people down below but Hitoshi didn't mind all that much anymore. It wasn't like anyone would really want to stop and make small talk with some bandaged boy slowly wandering around aimlessly.

As he imagined, downstairs was significantly busier. Nurses and doctors raced around doing their jobs and people (visitors and patients alike) idled like zombies. The hospital was always so somber in the mornings. There may not have been an uncanny silence like earlier, but there was a heavy feeling hanging in the air above Hitoshi.

It seemed that the tension was affecting him, because he could feel his headache coming back. The dull throbbing made his head spin until it'd finally become unbearable, and Hitoshi was forced to sit down on the nearest bench he could find. He was seated between two strangers, one being an old woman donning patient robes and a middle-aged man reading a book. He probably wasn't a patient.

The old woman glanced at him and smiled warmly, waving a little. Hitoshi forced a tiny smile back, despite the pounding in his head, and murmured a quiet 'good morning'. She nodded to him with the same smile before turning back to watch the crowd. She, like him, wasn't up for conversation.

Hitoshi leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

* * *

「8:24 a.m.」

* * *

Hitoshi hadn't even realized that he'd fallen asleep until he woke up sitting on the bench in a slouched angle, his head rested against the middle-aged man's shoulder. He didn't seem perturbed by Hitoshi sleeping on him (probably because Hitoshi was still just a child) and continued reading.

Hitoshi on the other hand had become red in the face. Once it occurred to him that he just fell asleep on a complete _stranger,_ he immediately sat up straight and mumbled clumsy apologies. The man waved them off, giving him a patient smile before returning to his book.

A soft laugh came from next to him. When Hitoshi turned his head, he could see the old woman chuckling. His cheeks flushed again and he quickly turned his head. Just how many people saw him like that?

Hitoshi murmured a small apology one more time and stood up, toddling off towards the bench across the two. It was empty, thank goodness.

He sat down on the stiff board and unconsciously let his gaze stray to the other bench. Once he caught sight of the man smiling sheepishly to himself and the old woman chuckling under her breath, his cheeks turned pink and he immediately whipped his head towards the hospital entrance.

Various kinds of people walked in and out of the doors, with the majority of those people being elderly.

When Hitoshi really thought about it, there weren't many kids around his age here. Most of the children in the hospital were still in elementary school and stuck close to others strictly around their age. The only other person that was thirteen here was Seiichi, but he looked and behaved nowhere _near_ thirteen.

Seventeen, perhaps. Seventeen would've been more appropriate.

Hitoshi gave a short nod to himself after settling on a proper age for Seiichi Yukimura. Once he'd reach this conclusion, he returned his attention to the front entrance as before.

He half-expected for some ambulance to speed up the driveway and doctors and nurses would rush out to save the day like in the hospital dramas his mother watched, but then again, those _were_ just TV shows. Stuff like that wouldn't actually happen too often in real life, he had to remind himself (but that didn't mean he didn't keep his eyes peeled open for the possibility).

Hitoshi wondered if that were the case with him. He couldn't remember many details about his accident, so he was admittedly a bit curious. Was he rushed to the hospital in the same dramatic fashion as all those other people in TV shows? Did doctors and nurses come rushing out there too—shouting and looking cool as they worked to save someone's life?

That would've been a pretty entertaining thing to see. Not many exciting things happened in Hitoshi's slow and steady lifestyle... but of course, that didn't exactly mean he enjoyed getting hit by cars. That was a little _too_ intense for his liking.

Still, Hitoshi could recall the moment when his mother had asked him if he wanted therapy. She'd been talking to his doctor, who recommended it. Then some other fellows came along (police maybe) and asked if he wanted to press charges against the driver "responsible" for the accident.

It didn't take long for Hitoshi to refuse to both offers. He'd concluded, during his time to himself in the hospital, that since both parties were at fault, neither deserved what was happening to them.

He didn't really talk about it to others (though some questioned his lack of distress over the casualty), but during the accident, he really was terrified.

That day it was pouring uncontrollably, and the most he could remember seeing was his blood slowly tainting the puddles he lay in. He was in so much pain; it was like his arms were pinned to the asphalt road by nails and his legs were set on fire. The world around him had become so blurry, faces were a haze, the sky was a blemish of white and grey.

 _'I'm going to die'_ , he'd thought to himself so many times. _'Is this really how it's going to happen?'_

He was already passed out before the ambulance came.

When Hitoshi woke up at the hospital, he was given a brisk explanation of the accident and questioned by the _entire population of Japan._ Honestly, the most stressed he'd ever been was during the _aftermath_ of the accident than the accident itself!

 _'What exactly did I get myself into...?'_

 _'I must be causing mom and dad so much trouble...'_

 ** _'Please, I just want to go home.'_**

But Hitoshi was perfectly _fine._ He wasn't experiencing any form of emotional trauma. Of course he was a bit frazzled by the entire thing, but perfectly okay nonetheless. No need to cause any court issues for the culprit when Hitoshi was okay with an apology. He was just happy to be alive.

But all these complications with the police, the accident, his family, it exhausted him... and to top it all off, Tohru was moving to the _other side_ of Japan.

Tohru was always there for him when Hitoshi was going through a rough situation like this one—but now that he was moving... who would be there now? His family was an option, but they were his flesh and blood. It was an obligation. On the other hand, having someone who _chose_ to be there with him made him feel a little special.

And Tohru was enough for him. Tohru was all he needed.

Of course, Hitoshi was always feeling guilty for spilling everything to Tohru. Whenever he was particularly distressed about something (or just going through his teenage blues), he'd always talk to Tohru. Even when Tohru always waved off his apologies with a large grin ("No problem, this is what friends do!"), Hitoshi was always afraid that he might one day snap.

... But he never did.

Hitoshi pulled his knees onto the bench and tucked his head, closing his eyes to the rest of the world. This was always a bad habit of his—whenever Hitoshi felt like he was going through too much torment, he'd always hide himself and block out everything. It made him feel like a weakling, like he was trapped inside a shell he created. Still, it was his only method of comfort.

Eventually, Hitoshi had become so oblivious to his surroundings he barely noticed the sound of footsteps approaching him.

"Hey loser, what are you doing here looking so glum for? I almost passed by you cause I thought you were just someone else. Luckily, I know you too well to miss ya in a crowd!" suddenly piped a _very_ familiar voice, breaking Hitoshi out of his shell in almost a second as he registered the voice into his head.

Hitoshi immediately looked up to meet the gaze of his very best friend. It took him a long minute to assess the situation—and it took twice as long to fully process that the one and only Tohru was _really,_ actually standing before him—before he'd finally broke into a wide grin.

"Tohru! Whoa! Wow... you k-kinda startled me there."

"Did I? Nyufufu. Payback for all those other times you've snuck up on me." He snickered back. The light-beige haired boy was left to sigh as he gazed at his friend.

Tohru's brown hair was a bit frizzy (he probably didn't take his usual morning shower) and he wore something a little more appropriate for public than his pajamas; a red t-shirt (technically Hitoshi's red t-shirt since he'd lent it to Tohru but Tohru kept it anyways) and denim shorts. Hitoshi's gaze traveled to Tohru's feet, and he smiled.

They were white sneakers, but painted on the sides were two terrible faces (by yours truly) that were _supposed_ to be the two of them. Hitoshi had his own pair back in his room that were done by Tohru.

"I thought you'd have thrown them away. They look terrible." Hitoshi chuckled. Tohru looked personally offended, even though Hitoshi technically insulted his _own_ art. With a sniff, Tohru folded his arms and turned his head like a child. "So what? Did ya throw out the ones I made for you?"

Hitoshi laughed again and shook his head. "Mm-mm. I kept them. Would I ever wear them? Never. But they're too special for me to throw away."

Apparently Hitoshi's low-key insult had gone unnoticed since his praise left Tohru grinning proudly. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and lifted his chin, gesturing for Hitoshi to get up.

"Well... since we've already run into each other here, how about we head to the hospital's rooftop? It'll give us privacy to talk and hang out. Just think of it like lunchtime during school, when we eat on the rooftop."

Hitoshi gazed at him with wide eyes for a long minute, before a soft smile touched his lips. "... I'm sorry, Tohru."

"Eh? For what?"

"For not saying goodbye yesterday. It was rude on my part..."

"Come on, I didn't even notice," he snorted as he reached out to ruffle Hitoshi's light-beige hair with a chuckle. "Besides, I know you... you were upset, like me. I don't blame you. But let's not think about it, 'kay? I just wanna hang out with you before I have to go."

The bright grin on his best friend's face was all it took to melt away what remainder of guilt there was left in his chest.

"Yeah. That sounds—" he paused, thinking for a moment, "—cool. That sounds cool. I was actually planning to explore the hospital, but the nurses would've probably just ended up sending me back to my room."

Tohru chortled mischievously while patting Hitoshi's shoulders. "Dude, we should totally prank them!"

"No, no we shouldn't. Let's stick to your plan."

"... Prank them?"

"Tohru..."

"Alright, alright, fine. Rooftop it is." he sighed dramatically. The unexcited expression on his face quickly faded away after he started to grin again and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "But first, let's go find a vending machine. I'm getting a bit thirsty."

* * *

「8:44 a.m.」

* * *

"I can't believe you made me buy you green tea."

"I already told you, it's not for me!"

"Then who's it for?"

"..."

"See!" Tohru sighed exasperatedly, propping his arms behind his head. "Green tea is so nasty! What are you? Forty?"

Hitoshi rolled his eyes at the fellow teenager. Honestly, sometimes he never stopped complaining. _'It's not like I could tell you anyways, you'd probably freak out and die,'_ Hitoshi thought to himself bitterly as he walked up the stairs in brisk pace. Tohru kept up with him pretty easily, but he could tell the brunet didn't like his attitude.

"Pfft, you're just mad that no one else likes green tea."

"So? You like terrible sneakers!"

"Aye, I'm proud of these sneakers!"

"I can't believe I ever agreed to paint shoes with you."

"You loved it and you know—"

Hitoshi immediately stopped in his tracks as soon as he'd reach the hallway leading to his room. Tohru on the other hand didn't stop, and continued to chatter for some length until he finally realized his blue-eyed friend wasn't there next to him. He immediately turned around to see that he was lingering in place, a dazed expression on his face.

"Um... Hitoshi? You okay there, buddy?"

"..."

"Dude."

"..."

"Uh, duude?"

"Shh." Hitoshi pressed a finger to his lips. His ocean eyes darted over to some door and stayed there, fixed on it like there were diamonds embedded into its surface. He strolled back to where his best friend stood with the same fixed expression.

Yep. It was just a door. The door to Room 404, to be specific.

Before another word could leave Tohru's lips Hitoshi was slowly stepping towards it, hands reaching out for the knob. Tohru just watched him do this with a bewildered look etched into his features. What the hell was he doing? That wasn't his room.

"Hitoshi—"

"I'll be back. I just need to do something." Hitoshi called to him before setting one hand around the door knob. He waited for a bit, waiting for the right moment as he held his breath. His heart pounded against his chest so loudly it might as well have been knocking on the door.

"You can do this Hitoshi. So what if he might not be a morning person? All you're doing is giving him some green tea. So what if he might not like green tea? You like green tea. Actually you don't, but mom likes green—"

"Can you hurry the fuck up?"

Hitoshi flashed Tohru an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, sorry."

He took another deep breath and exhaled, turning the knob and pushing the door open with a soft click. Beads of sweat dripped down his face and he pushed the door open as slowly as possible (was he this nervous when he was returning that folded piece of paper from so long ago?).

Once the crack was wide enough, Hitoshi took a peek inside.

On the bed lay a lump under the blankets... which was probably a sleeping Seiichi Yukimura. So he hadn't woken up yet.

All the weight on Hitoshi's chest was suddenly lifted as he sighed. Another second of this tension and he'd have another week at the hospital for paranoia.

Hitoshi took tentative steps inside the room, his heart going crazier the closer he got to Seiichi's bedside.

 _'Just put it on the counter, just put it on the counter, just put it on the counter, just put it on the freaking counter!'_

Once he was close enough (read: his hand could stretch far enough so that he would be able to balance the can on the edge of the bedside table with only his fingers), he set the can close enough on the table so that it wouldn't teeter and—

 _CLUNK!_

Cue Hitoshi Matsumoto _almost_ crumpling to the floor in a spaz attack from his sudden mini-heart attack.

His eyes went wide and like a deer caught in the headlights he froze in place—the only thing he was focused on now was the sleeping figure in bed that was _starting to shift._ Once it was evident that Seiichi was turning around, Hitoshi snatched the can that fell and dropped to the ground, backing against the wall in hopes that the bedside table could hide him.

"Nn... what the...? Gen'ichirou? Renji...?" the waking blue-haired boy moaned drowsily.

Hitoshi clamped one hand around his mouth to silence even his breathing. Why in God's name had he decided to be a creep and hide instead of waiting for Seiichi to see him and ask of his motives so that he could politely explain that he'd brought him some green tea as a 'thanks for trying to be my friend and sorry that I don't really want you as my friend' gift?

There was another moan before the sounds of rustling blankets, and... silence. Hitoshi waited for a few more seconds before he deemed it safe to stand up again. His legs wobbled as he eased himself on his feet, and he watched the boy's sleeping face for any signs of waking.

Once it was clear that he would not be waking again, Hitoshi set the can down on the bedside table properly this time. But before he could go on his merry way, Hitoshi caught sight of a pen and planner. He contemplated on whether or not he leaving a note would be fine before settling on the decision that remaining anonymous was for the best...

... until he changed his mind and took the pen into his hands, quickly scrawling, **"Thank you. HM."**

With a smile he politely dipped his chin at the sleeping boy and high-tailed it out of there.

* * *

「8:48 a.m.」

* * *

The sky had never been so blue and empty before. It was like staring at the ocean (minus the waves).

Hitoshi continued to gaze up at the vast canvas that reflected his own eyes, searching for even the smallest specks of clouds, but not a single was spotted. Behind him Tohru had just closed the rooftop door and started to stroll where Hitoshi stood. "It's really nice up here."

"Mm-hm."

"So um... Hitoshi." Tohru began as he strolled to where Hitoshi stood. He leaned forward and curled his fingers around the fence loops, looking down at the bustling city. His eyes traveled lower and lower until they rested upon his feet, where he noticed one of his shoe laces were undone. He knelt down and began to tie it again. "When did you meet Yukimura Seiichi?"

Hitoshi didn't look away from the sky. "Mm... when did I meet him? I think it was almost a week ago. He came into my room one morning to deliver some daisies that my grandma accidentally sent to him. But I was on medication at the time, so you can imagine how that encounter went, hehe."

Tohru snickered to himself. "Oh man, I wish I could've seen that...! That would've been hilarious!"

"Yeah, but in my shoes I had no clue what was happening. All I thought was 'wow, a new friend'!" he laughed as a few more chuckles were shared between the two. Then, Hitoshi continued, "Anyways, so a few days later I was playing with the tennis ball you gave me. I accidentally dropped it and it rolled out the door, 'cause it was open, but before I could go out to get it back he was already there picking it up."

"Yukimura?"

"Mm-hm. He was passing by, I guess. I didn't really remember him at the time though." Hitoshi finally looked away from the sky and down at the city below. "So... I asked for the ball back and he decided to stay."

"Hm... you must have been pretty uncomfortable, huh?"

"A little. It was somewhat awkward, since I didn't really know who he was and why he was so adamant on staying. But if he wanted to stay, I wasn't going to just kick him out. So we just got to know each other." Hitoshi paused for a moment. "... But you know, even though I don't really like him, he's not exactly a _bad_ guy..."

Tohru stopped picking at the plastic end of his shoe laces to look up at his friend. "Why don't you like him? I mean, Yukimura is a pretty amazing guy, y'know. Even though he's usually quiet he's still charming, and he's amazing at tennis, _and_ he's pretty. For a boy, I mean."

"... I don't like his eyes."

"Eeh? His eyes?"

"His eyes. His eyes freak me out. So does that strange air about him." Hitoshi visibly shivered uncomfortably at the recollection. "It's like he's trying to see through me. Like he's opening me up and trying to look me inside out."

"That's... a weird way to put it."

"'Cause it _is_ weird! Not to mention _disturbing!"_ he shivered again. "I'm not scared of the guy, but I can go without having to fight against that intense stare of his."

Tohru guffawed at the silliness of his friend's complaint, earning a glare from the blue-eyed boy. Once the last of his snickers finally died down and Hitoshi no longer glared, he smiled at the boy. "Come on Hitoshi, you're one of the bravest guys I know. I'm terrified of Yukimura 'cause he's pretty much a god come to earth, but you? You're not scared of anything."

"That's a lie and you know it."

"Hitoshi, of all the years I've known you—which is very long and _you_ know it—I have never seen you cower to a single human being _once._ Besides your mom, that is."

Even though Tohru had initially been joking, a dark shadow fell over Hitoshi's face.

"... That's not true."

"Huh?"

"That's not true." he murmured softly. His voice was barely above a whisper. He glanced back to Tohru, his eyes glazed strangely.

"... I'm not scared of Yukimura-san, but there was... there was one incident. I accidentally said something and angered him. The way he looked at me... the level of intensity in those deep eyes... I wanted to run. I wanted to be anywhere but _there,_ but it was like I was frozen in place."

"... Hitoshi..."

"Of course, that was only one time." Hitoshi sighed, ruffling his light-beige hair. "And one time was enough for me."

There was a brief moment of silence between the two. Tohru was admittedly a bit surprised with Hitoshi's confession. He'd known Hitoshi for so long... yet, never has he ever trembled before anyone other than his mother. Yeah, he would always seem pretty miffed if he ever ran into any trouble with someone—but _never_ scared.

Then again... there was a kind of force around Seiichi Yukimura, a force that no soul should have the misfortune of facing.

Hitoshi was only lucky he came out with a scratch.

"But you know..." Tohru began, his gaze slowly panning up to the azure sky above. He smiled sheepishly and hooked his fingers onto the emerald chain-link fence. "You're not all that different from him, Hitoshi. That's why I find it so funny that you don't like the way he seems to be able to 'see into your soul'."

Hitoshi's brows furrowed together and his face scrunched in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

As far as Hitoshi knew, he and the blue-haired boy were more than different. From the little time that Hitoshi knew Seiichi, there was not one aspect to him that reminded Hitoshi of himself. Seiichi was a proud and dignified fellow, but well-mannered and unafraid.

Hitoshi was more or less self-confident and blunt, but most of the time polite (at least he _tried_ to be polite).

How could he and Seiichi _possibly_ similar?

"Well... where do I start?" Tohru tilted his head. "You both have the same eyes."

 _"Hah?"_

"Wait, wait, wait. Before you start freaking out, let me explain myself."

The brunet ignored the scowl on Hitoshi's face and eased himself onto his feet. He shifted his weight against the fence before grinning at the blue-eyed boy in mild fashion. "You're not aware of it, but you've got a bit of a 'prying gaze' yourself. We're best friends, so I don't mind. But you know... sometimes when we're together, it's like those ocean eyes of yours are piercing _right_ through me. Other times it looks like they're trying to engulf the world."

Tohru paused for a moment to look at his friend's expression. Skepticism was still hanging onto Hitoshi's face, but his features had softened some. "So my point is—the way the both of you look at others is similar. You've both got alike insight."

"... Insight, huh?" Hitoshi murmured. "... Is that what it is?"

Hitoshi wasn't going to brag, but from a very young age, he'd always been able to look at almost anybody and figure out what kind of character they were through their simple everyday actions. He didn't particularly take pride in this skill because he never found anything so singularly special about it. It developed from countless years of people-watching, so naturally everyone would be a tad more observant after this, right?

Apparently wrong.

Because from the look of envy on Tohru's face, Hitoshi could tell just how peculiar 'insight' really was.

"With a skill like 'insight', you know, you'd already be one step closer to playing at a national-level in tennis." Tohru commented matter-of-factly, and he turned his head to see a flat expression on Hitoshi's face. "Wait, hold on now, it's not like I'm dissing you off or anything. Besides, you and Yukimura probably have a different form of insight anyways."

The pout still hadn't left Hitoshi's face. "Yeah, but you make it seem as though I'm wasting such a 'talent'."

"Well, I'm sorry?"

"It's okay, I was just teasing you." Hitoshi grinned, winking at his less-than-amused friend before turning his gaze back to the city. But he wondered... with a skill like 'insight'... would he make an extraordinary tennis player? And if he one day joined the tennis club...

"Hey... Tohru. This is probably going to be a stupid question, but... you like tennis, don't you?"

"Oh yeah. I love tennis!"

"So you'll be joining the tennis club in your new school, in Hokkaido?"

"If they have one, yeah..." Tohru nodded. "Why?"

Hitoshi took a moment to think, a pause in his soft breaths. When Tohru moved away, Hitoshi would be all by himself. And... the foreboding solitude unnerved Hitoshi. He didn't want to be completely alone, with no one... not even his family or lovely ginger tabby Cat could replace the company that of a friend could give to him. Someone who _chose_ to care about him.

"Why do you like tennis, Tohru?" he murmured almost inaudibly. Tohru blinked twice in surprise. "Eeh...? Why do I like tennis...? Well..."

His gaze moved towards the azure sky like Hitoshi, the two sitting in patient silence for a minute. "... it's fun. Tennis is fun. 'Cause I make friends and I enjoy tennis with them."

... Aah, of course he would. Hitoshi on the other hand, even if he were to one day join the tennis club, friendship was still impossible for an gauche boy like him. Joining the tennis club was—like everything else—a faraway dream.

"... It must be so easy for you."

Tohru's smile softened. "This is going to come off as a bit conceited, but making friends is my specialty. I want to have fun in everything I do, so naturally I find others and with a little bit of humor I can make a new buddy. 'Cause I'm not like you, Hitoshi... I can't handle being lonely as easily as you."

"You..." Hitoshi snorted mockingly. "You think I deal with it so easily? It's just as hard for me as it is for you."

The brunet didn't answer him back for a long minute. And when the silence between drew on for another full minute, Hitoshi had begun to worry. Did he somehow offend his friend?

Before an apology could leave his lips Tohru suddenly spoke. "You know, the tennis club doesn't have a manager."

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. "And I care because...?"

"I'm saying..." Tohru grinned widely as he straightened his posture, arms folded against his broad chest. "... you should join Rikkai's tennis club as their manager."

"Ee... _EEEHH?!"_

Hitoshi's eyes were so wide they might as well have fallen out of their sockets. Did Tohru just say what he thought he said? Was he... was he _really_ suggesting that Hitoshi become Rikkai's tennis club manager?!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Tohru...! That's a bit far-fetched, don't you think?" Hitoshi blubbered in disbelief. "For one thing, this is the tennis club we're talking about. The club that—haha— _Yukimura Seiichi just so happens to be a member of._ You know, the guy that gives me the heebie-jeebies?"

"Oh come on Hitoshi, literally everyone but me makes you sweat your pants!" Tohru beamed, "You'll do just fine! You're a guy, which is better than any of the tennis regular's rabid fangirls, your math is average, you're decent at managing, and you're fairly educated on tennis!"

"What's a serve again?"

"They'll teach you what you lack!"

"Tohru... I'm always trying out your suggestions, even when they result in being sent out to the hall or getting scolded by my mom." Hitoshi began fondly, setting one hand on Tohru's shoulder, "... But this has got to be the _worst_ of your advice. I'm not socially active nor am I all that knowledgeable in tennis. I've only been to like, _one_ game, and that was in my _first year_ of junior high. It was hot, I was sweaty, I couldn't even see half the match because the guy in front of me couldn't decide if he wanted to stand or sit. _I was not a happy camper."_

A breathless laugh escaped from the brunet's lips. "Okay dude, but sometimes all it takes is a jump. Maybe even two little jumps. 'Cause if you take itty-bitty steps like you always do, you'll get nowhere. You should try to crawl out of your shell this year, Hitoshi! It's going to be embarrassing, but trust me, by the end of it all you'll be thanking me."

"... And why exactly would I be thanking you for causing my timely demise?"

"Hitoshi. Listen here. Becoming the tennis club manager is an honor, it's like... it's uh, it's like standing with giants. Really gigantic and amazing giants." The devilish grin on Tohru's face grew a bit larger. "You'll draw influence from them and change into a confident guy, with lots of friends. Besides, you'll also gain the respect of a lot of students and teachers. You'll gain work experience and finally do productive things instead of... ah, riding around on your bike with Cat all day."

"Excuse me? Cat and I have fun on our dates, don't come raining on our parade."

"Yeah. Okay. Whatever you say." Tohru deadpanned, lifting his eyebrows in doubt. "Anyways, what I'm trying to say is if you take one big confident jump it won't be as hard. You'll regret it at first, but you'll end up loving it."

Hitoshi's brows furrowed. "... But I'm not looking for respect and work experience—actually, that sounds like a good plan, but the point is that I'm not looking for popularity. I just need someone to lean on from time to time... someone to prank people with and catch seagulls with and for goodness sake, _just live life with!_ I'm perfectly content with slow and lazy days, Tohru. Those were the only times I was ever happy... you know that, don't you?"

At this, Tohru's shining vigor had dulled. His smile turned into a thin line, and he set a hand atop Hitoshi's light-beige hair. "... I know. But I'm leaving soon, and there's nothing I can do about it, Hitoshi... that's why I just want you to find something to be motivated for. To look forward to everyday. Something that sends you walking home tired but content. 'Cause I know you. Once I leave, those slow days are gonna turn into bittersweet times. You'll be living in an endless cycle, and you'll be too stubborn to break from it."

There was a fleeting pause of breath before he licked his lips and continued, "I don't want to see you suffering like that, Hitoshi. And maybe my advice _is_ bad, maybe it'll just make everything worse, but the jump is worth a try. In the end, though... it's all up to you."

 _'All up... to me, huh?'_ Hitoshi sighed and tightened his grip on the chain-link fence. He didn't need a whole group of friends. Just one person was fine. One person with enough to send his world spinning in a colorful circle. But now that the only friend in his life was leaving him... the only other person in the world he whispered his secrets to, that he laughed with, that he loved... what would he do?

Suddenly, there was a ringing sound. Like something was vibrating.

Tohru blinked, a bit startled by it. He reached into his shorts pockets and pulled out a cellphone. He looked at the screen, eyes narrowing grimly as he read the contact number. His dad.

"Oh man... dad's calling me." he murmured to his friend before answering the phone. "Dad? Yeah, I'm still at the hospital. Oh... okay. Bye then."

He hung up and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. "I have to go now..."

A lump formed in Hitoshi's throat, and his eyes stung with coming tears. Pretty soon Tohru was going to be leaving his side.

"O-Oh... then... I-I guess... this is goodbye, huh?" he uttered, pursing his lips as he swallowed back the lump forming in the back of his throat.

"Mm-hm." Tohru nodded.

There was a heavy silence in the air as they stood next to each other, not one boy saying a thing to the other. Ironically, in such a melancholic moment, birds sang their love-songs so freely from nearby trees, like they were oblivious to the mood. The sounds of rustling leaves joined in the melodies; it synchronized so perfectly. The sun began to shine a little brighter and the sky was never so blue. The whole world around them was blind to their situation.

It seemed as though it were an entire lifetime before Tohru finally moved to embrace Hitoshi. He squeezed his arms around the boy's neck, burrowing his head against Hitoshi's light-beige hair.

How could saying goodbye be so easy, but so heavy?

"I'll miss you lots, Hitoshi! I know I told you making friends is super easy for me, but you'll always be my favorite! I'll send lots of letters, and once I get a phone of my own I'll send you my number so you can contact me! Tell your mom I'll miss her western sweets and Cat that I'll miss his stupid meowing! Tell your dad, Tadashi, and Satoshi I'll miss them too! Oh, and your grandma and grandpa!"

Hitoshi's eyes went several inches wide from surprise at the sudden outburst. And like a full bottle finally at its capacity limit, he couldn't cap back those darn feelings. He hated to cry in front of his best friend, but involuntary tears begun to stream down his cheeks as he returned the vigorous hug, and he blubbered the same things as Tohru. "I'll miss you too...! Make sure you give me y-your new address, s-s-so I can... so I can mail letters to you too! And I-I'm supposed to be getting a phone n-next year, so I'll give you my contact number...! And... and... tell everyone in your family that I'll miss them too!"

The rest of his words came out as incoherent blubbers that Tohru could barely understand, but he didn't care. Even once Hitoshi stopped talking, as his sobbing fit made speech impossible, they stayed like that for a long time.

Until a whole other lifetime passed by.

When they finally pulled away from each other, Hitoshi wiped away the tears on his face. The last of his hiccups finally faded out as shuddered breaths and he could finally breathe again. A feeble grin formed on his lips as he managed to murmur, "I think I got snot on your shoulders..."

Tohru shared the same smile. "And I definitely got snot in your hair."

"Ew, th-that's gross, wipe it off!"

"I was kidding, I was kidding!" he sighed, raising his arms innocently. Then he punched Hitoshi's arm teasingly, flashing him a mild grin. "Well... I've got to go now, or my dad will get mad. Take care of yourself, Hitoshi."

He smiled arduously at his blue-eyed friend and ruffled that neat light-beige hair of his before turning to leave. But as he opened the rooftop door, he turned back around just one last time.

"Remember what I told ya. Sometimes all it takes is a jump."

Hitoshi grinned. "I know. Take care, Tohru."

With a casual wave, Tohru turned around and left the rooftop.

... It was so silent now, without him here. But for some reason, when Hitoshi expected to be enveloped by a wave of emptiness, he felt... something _entirely_ different. However, just what _was_ this feeling? It didn't make him happy, but it... didn't particularly feel like lost hope.

It was sort of like he was beginning something new.

He continued to stare up at the blue sky for some time, reminded of how he and Tohru used to spend their weekends at the ocean, catching seagulls and freeing them on the dock. Then they'd run around acting like fools, kicking sand at the other with Cat following suit.

Yes, he could never possibly replace Tohru, or those timeless days they spent being kids.

 _'... But you could always start something new.'_

Hitoshi tilted his head. "... 'Cause sometimes all it takes is a jump, right?"

Silence.

Honestly, he didn't know what he was expecting, with no one else on the roof with him anymore. Maybe somewhere deep in his consciousness he hoped that the wind could answer his question.

Or maybe it was probably because he already knew the answer.

With one long drawn out sigh, the blue-eyed boy let go of the fence and rubbed away the rest of his drying tears. He should probably be heading back now... no use staying up here reminiscing times he couldn't return to.

Before he could start heading back towards the door, the vague sounds of muffled voices begun to make themselves evident.

For a moment, Hitoshi was frozen in place, eyes glued onto the door. It wasn't until the doorknob started to jiggle that he finally snapped out of his panicked stupor. Millions of thoughts rushed through his head all at once as he struggled to remember if patients were allowed on the roof or not.

With seconds left until whoever was at the door came through the doorway, Hitoshi's eyes darted to possible hiding spots.

Behind the potted tree near the corner of the fence?

Next to the entrance to the rooftop?

In the small spacing separating the fence and the bin of flowers?

Once the door started to open Hitoshi was left no choice but to scramble to his third hiding spot, squeezing himself into the limited spacing. At times like these he blessed the gods for his lean physique.

"—doing well? I heard from Gen'ichirou that he asks about me often."

Hitoshi's eyes widened. He knew that soft-spoken voice... it was Seiichi's voice, wasn't it?

"Ah, yes, Akaya does question me about your condition many times a day." Spoke another voice, but this time it was foreign. This one was lower and mellow, but Hitoshi didn't know who it belonged to. Someone from the tennis club?

"That boy may not look it, but he does worry often, doesn't he? Fufu. It's cute."

"Yes... though not only Akaya asks me about you, but the others as well. Bunta questions me about just as much as Akaya does. In fact, they ask me more than they do Gen'ichirou..."

"Well you know how he is. His patience can last for only so long."

There was a soft laugh shared between the two, then a comfortable silence. Well... comfortable for _them,_ at least. Little did the two boys know, there was someone else with them hiding not too far away.

Hitoshi clamped a hand around his mouth to keep himself from coughing the little cough coming up his throat. Consequently, he gagged and started up another set of mini coughs. He (painfully) choked those back too.

Why was it that he always got himself into this sort of situation, and chose to go about these situations in a fashion that made him off to be a creeper _and_ an eavesdropper? If for just one time he could think these things more thoroughly—

Just then, he only let his fingers slip for a second, his mouth went open.

 _The softest cough escaped from his lips._

Hitoshi froze in place (not like he was even doing anything anyways). The silence had gone from comfortable to heavily alert... or perhaps it was just Hitoshi's paranoia tricking him into thinking he'd been caught. But that didn't change the fact that Hitoshi was on the verge of a heart attack. He lay frigid in his tiny hiding spot, enduring the long silence that seemed to predict an impending doom.

"... Renji."

"Yes, Seiichi?"

 _Thump thump._

 _'Oh shoot. Have I been caught?'_

"... Do you think that it's about time our tennis club found itself a manager?"

 _'Eh?'_

"Hm?"

At the word 'manager', Hitoshi's ears perked. He unconsciously loosened the tight hold his hand had around his lips and, though he felt guilty for this, he tuned into the blue-haired boy's conversation. What a coincidence, that Tohru suggested Hitoshi become manager of the tennis club only for Seiichi Yukimura to ponder something similar.

"Our tennis club. We've gone without a manager for quite a long time, but I feel as though we should find one that can stay the remainder of the school year and be manager all-year next year."

"Seiichi... if I may inquire upon your concerns, why do you suddenly want to find a manager? Theoretically speaking, it will only cause trouble for the club should any of our particularly obsessed fans find out about this."

"Which is why I am asking _you_ whether or not our club is in need of a manager. Because Renji, I do not want you or Gen'ichirou distracted with club matters when you have tennis to focus on. But if you feel that you and Gen'ichirou can handle tennis and the other issues on one plate, then by all means, be my guest. However let me remind you that our old captain and vice-captain will not be there to guide you both."

"Hm... you make a fair point, Seiichi." There was a pause, then a soft sigh. "I hate to admit it, but having a manager to assist with club management sounds like a good idea. That way we can still have an extra hand in these matters, should anything go wrong."

"Aah, see my point now, Renji?"

"Yes, I do, Seiichi. But how do you plan to go about finding a suitable manager? Half of Rikkai's female population are smitten with the regulars, including you and I, to the point that it would distract them from club duties and attract unwanted situations. I'm not even exaggerating."

Hitoshi's nose crinkled at that. Was the tennis club really so popular? Hitoshi never noticed.

"Well... you just leave that part to me. I'll find something to do about this... point at issue."

"Ah, very well then. I trust your judgement better than mine, Seiichi. But have you talked this out with Gen'ichirou?"

"No, I haven't. But my decision has already been made."

"Seiichi... you are aware that Gen'ichirou _will_ protest, yes?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. Gen'ichirou is so proud he refuses to accept any form of assistance from anyone. But trust me when I say this Renji, he will come around eventually. All it takes is time and patience."

"... I suppose you are right, then." The voice, who belonged to this 'Renji', fell silent for a moment. Nothing was spoken between the two for a while, and Hitoshi had begun to wonder if they somehow left the rooftop without opening the door. Before he could lift his head high enough to peer over the flower bins without getting caught, he suddenly stopped at the sound of a cough.

He dropped his head against the ground again. Looks like they hadn't left after all.

The two continued to talk for some time about tennis this and tennis that as Hitoshi lay in his hiding spot like a log. His limbs were beginning to grow numb from staying still so long and all he wanted was for them just to _leave._ Though part of him cursed himself for always choosing the stupidest decisions in dire situations, the other part cursed the two for having such a long conversation in the first place.

It seemed like an eternity before the one named Renji finally bade Seiichi farewell, and went on his way. The sound of the rooftop door clicking behind him was like the chorusing of angels. As though the heavy weight of thousands of boulders was suddenly lifted from his chest, Hitoshi could suddenly breathe so much better than before.

"Aah... I should probably be going too."

And in a fraction of a second the boulders were dropped back onto him.

To add to his misfortune, Hitoshi could feel a foreboding sneeze beginning to tickle his nose. He clamped one hand tightly around his mouth and prayed desperately that Seiichi Yukimura _just leave already._

But seeing as luck clearly hated Hitoshi's guts, the moment the sounds of Seiichi's footsteps finally grew further away and were replaced with the sound of the rooftop door creaking open, his body disobeyed his mind.

Finally breaking through the silence was one petite sneeze. It wasn't very loud or disgusting, just a soft squeak followed by a quiet sniffle.

However it was still enough for Seiichi Yukimura's sharp hearing to catch apparently, because after the rigid pause in time he called out, "Is anyone there?"

Hitoshi didn't answer. Perhaps if he stayed silent, Seiichi would assume it to be all his imagination. Then he'd leave and Hitoshi could finally escape from the rooftop like nothing ever happened. He totally didn't just accidentally eavesdrop on Seiichi's conversation with his friend—which incidentally tackled matters that Tohru pointed out to Hitoshi.

"... Just my imagination." The blue-haired boy murmured before closing the door.

He was gone.

Was he really gone?

Yes, Hitoshi heard the door closing, so that must have meant that Seiichi finally left.

OH THANK GOODNESS HE LEFT.

Hitoshi sat up and released a long, drawn-out, _exhausted_ sigh. He pressed a trembling hand over his weak heart and smiled to himself feebly. "N–Never... again... gotta stop getting myself into this kind of situation... hah..."

The blue-eyed boy stood up on his wobbly spaghetti legs and took one large step over the bin of flowers. And like a clumsy ox, on his second step he stumbled on his own feet and fell to the ground like in a rag-doll fashion. Luckily he didn't land on his broken wrist and instead dropped to the ground with arms splayed before him, his legs propped against the flower bin.

"O-Ow... that hurt... a lot..."

"Matsumoto-san?"

Cue Hitoshi Matsumoto nearly dying on the spot when his heart suddenly stopped beating.

As it turned out, Seiichi Yukimura had not left the entire time. He simply closed the door and hid next to the rooftop entrance, waiting for whoever had been there to reveal themselves. Shockingly enough, Seiichi had not been expecting that odd boy with ocean eyes to be the one hiding away from him.

The boy blinked several times at him with the level of shock in his eyes. Once it finally registered into his thick head the fresh situation he'd gotten himself into, he clumsily raised himself on his knees and begun to bow repeatedly.

"I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY! I WASN'T EAVESDROPPING ON YOUR CONVERSATION ON PURPOSE, I SWEAR! I WAS UP HERE ALREADY AND I HEARD YOU COMING, SO I PANICKED AND HID! I'M REALLY SORRY!"

"A-Aa... it's okay, Matsumoto-san, so you don't need to apologize so... uh, _fervently."_ Seiichi smiled at him sheepishly, brushing a hand through his dark hair. It seemed he'd forgotten just how passionate this boy could get. "But honestly, you surprised me. I didn't expect to see you up here."

"Well... I was just up here with... ah, Tohru. You know, the friend I keep bragging about to you?" From the musing expression on Seiichi's face, Hitoshi took it as a yes. He stood himself on his feet and brushed off the earth on his clothes. "W-Well... uh, sorry. Again."

He looked back up at the blue-haired boy and naturally met his dark brown eyes. Still, they seemed to search Hitoshi, piecing him apart then putting him back together.

 _'... Insight, or something.'_

"I'll just, ah... take my leave... then." Hitoshi said in awkward pauses, gesturing towards the door.

Seiichi was quick at blocking it however, as in one fluid movement he was standing right in front of Hitoshi. He held the doorknob tightly and smiled at the bewildered boy before him. "Please wait a moment, Matsumoto-san. Do you mind keeping me company up here for a moment?"

"... K-Keeping you company?" the light-beige haired boy repeated back in question. He cocked his head and tried to reach for the door knob, only to have it gently pushed back by a pale hand. Seiichi's smile grew wider. "Yes, keep me company. All I want is to have a nice conversation with you, Matsumoto-san. Unless... you have something _else_ to do, that is."

"I _don't,_ but... um, what exactly do you want to talk about?" Hitoshi took a step back. The way Seiichi smiled down at him... the way his deep brown eyes seemed to challenge him...

... it was like Hitoshi was taking a test of sorts, and Seiichi was his watchful moderator.

The blue-haired boy hummed and took a step forward, setting his hands on Hitoshi's shoulders and turning him in direction of the rooftop fence. "Just a few things vital to me, not a lot." he gently pushed the blue-eyed boy forward towards the fence and followed behind, keeping a firm hold on his shoulders. It wasn't until they were far enough from the door that Hitoshi couldn't run did Seiichi finally let go.

"So... Matsumoto-san." Seiichi prompted, clapping his hands once. "Since you overheard the conversation I had with my friend, I suppose that means you heard about my suggestion for a club manager?"

"U-Uh... yes."

"Mm-hm... and your friend. The one named Tohru. He is a member of the tennis club, is he not?" Seiichi inquired next. He folded his arms and tilted his head interestingly at the boy, noting the strange expression forming on his face. With a thin smile, Hitoshi nodded his head. "... Yeah. He _was._ He's moving today, though, so..."

Before Seiichi could answer to his meek answer Hitoshi quickly raised a hand to stop him mid-word. "Ah, excuse my straightforwardness, but I don't need your sympathy. In fact, I'm actually fairing pretty fine right now. What you saw yesterday was I stubbornly hanging onto our friendship because I believed that if he left, there would have been nothing left for me. But now..."

Hitoshi paused his speech for a moment, and he turned to look at Seiichi. His ocean eyes seemed to glimmer with something strange... something completely different from the usual feeble gaze that reflected his reserved character.

Is it... determination?

"... but now, I want to change. So that's why..." Hitoshi forced an awkward grin, trying to muster as much confidence as possible. Because sometimes all it took was a jump, right? Then that jump might as well be one that reached over the stars!

"I want to become Rikkai's tennis club manager! So if you're looking for someone to take up the job, let it be me!"

... And _cue_ a heavily awkward silence that mercilessly disintegrated Hitoshi's new-found confidence.

"... O-Or something..."

Seiichi tilted his head and peered at him curiously. How strange, that the strong boy before him now was the same boy he witnessed diminishing away yesterday; that his crumbling armor then was the same as the polished one he wore now. Whatever happened to initiate this change he did not know, but what he _did_ know was that the boy was already becoming a suitable candidate. Even without his friend to interrogate, Seiichi could tell that Hitoshi's strong character was not just a baseless act.

Still... there were a few more matters at hand to be discussed.

"I admire your newly discovered strength, Matsumoto-san..." Seiichi murmured, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind his ears. "... but what gives you the idea that becoming Rikkai's tennis club manager will change you?"

"H-Huh...? Well..." Hitoshi's brows furrowed, and he scratched at his cheek ruefully. "... to be perfectly honest with you, I don't really know. It was actually something that Tohru suggested to me before he left. But I suppose I'll learn about sportsmanship, teamwork, and I'll have the chance to hone out skills I never really needed before. It'll give me something to be motivated for. Who knows, I might even come to love tennis."

"... Hm. So is it not something you truly want to do?"

"It _is!_ I do want to become your club manager, I swear!"

There was a passion in those ocean eyes, like a strong storm was brewing in the sea. There wasn't even a hint of hesitance in the way he glared at Seiichi so intently.

Seiichi could have smiled.

"Then pray tell, Matsumoto-san. What is tennis to you?"

Hitoshi blinked in surprise. He didn't really know what to say, since he didn't even like tennis all that much. "What is... tennis, to me? Aa... I guess tennis is... something to enjoy?"

"Tennis? Something to _enjoy?"_ The brown pigment in Seiichi's eyes darkened significantly as he reached for the fence, grasping onto it tightly, and almost _desperately._ With the way he glared so hatefully at the city, Hitoshi would have assumed Kanagawa murdered his entire family. "Tennis is _hardly_ enjoyable. Tennis is an all-out _war,_ Matsumoto-san. When you play the game, you play to conquer. You play to _win."_

"Yu-Yukimura-san..."

"There is not an ounce of value in a match that was lost. It was fun? It was memorable? It was life–changing? In the end, you still lost your pride and splendors."

"I—"

"Listen here, Matsumoto-san." Seiichi grabbed hold of Hitoshi's shirt collar and pulled him close, so close that Hitoshi could smell the vague odor of hospital chemicals that lingered onto the blue-haired boy. Seiichi leaned towards his ear, hissing, "If it is love and friendship you hope to gain from the tennis club then _you are looking in the wrong place, my friend."_

Even once the blue-haired boy let go of Hitoshi, the boy didn't move. He stood rooted to the ground; trembling, quiet, unreadable. When he was positioned still like that, Seiichi couldn't tell if the boy was either crying, angry, petrified, or all of the above. He released a heavy sigh and let go of the fence, rubbing at the flushed imprints left in his hand.

"... I apologize, Matsumoto-san. I went too far. But, if you become Rikkai's tennis club manager, the only thing you'll learn from us is how to be a _monster."_

With that said, he turned around and begun heading towards the door. Funny how Seiichi held him back with the sole intention of recruiting him, and now he pushed him away to keep him from being what he was willing to be.

But... someone like Hitoshi Matsumoto could never accept the tennis club. He could already tell.

"You're wrong."

Seiichi stopped. Did he just...?

"You're wrong, _Yukimura."_

Seiichi turned around and gave a hard stare at the boy. "I'm wrong?"

"Yes. You're wrong." Hitoshi lifted his head, the same determination from before shining brightly. If anything, his resolve had strengthened. "I believe that if I join the tennis club, I can learn something meaningful. Because... because even monsters have hearts."

With a soft smile, Hitoshi added, "Besides... I'm not joining to play, anyways. So I won't be standing on any war-zones."

Seiichi stared at him, and he stood aloof but patient. The look in his dark eyes challenged Hitoshi, testing his commitment; testing how long it would take before he realized his place and _backed down._

But it never happened. The longer he stared the longer Hitoshi simply stared back, unrelenting to his force.

Like a peasant who refused to bow for his _god._

Finally, the glare on his face softened into a jaded smirk. "That determination of yours is something to admire, Matsumoto-san." He calmly murmured, and before he finally left Hitoshi to himself on the rooftop again, he turned his head a final time. "... By the way, thank you for the green tea this morning. I rather enjoyed it."

"... M-Mm."

The clicking of the door shutting behind Seiichi resonated through the silence, and Hitoshi finally collapsed to his knees. He felt so stiff from standing so firm. It seemed just simply opposing to Seiichi's aura was taxing enough to tire him.

With a deep sigh, Hitoshi leaned against the chain-link fence and stared up at the vast azure sky. It was so clear and beautiful... and so _refreshing._ Like a wave of relief washed over him, Hitoshi smiled bleakly to himself and closed his eyes.

"... I think I may have just jumped over the entire universe, Tohru."

* * *

「10:03 a.m.」

* * *

When Seiichi Yukimura finally returns to his room, the first thing he does is collapse face-first into the bed.

He doesn't move, not even a twitch of a finger. He's too occupied with something else.

That boy, that freckled boy with ocean eyes, the one who always seems to change before him... who does he think he is, opposing to a deity with nothing but two fists and hardened eyes? When before he was nothing but a meek child? Does he think simply because someone gave him a motivational speech he can somehow take on the world?

Seiichi is honestly impressed with the boy. He genuinely admires his determination, or rather, his _resolve_ to become the tennis club's manager. He's hellbent on changing into whatever character he wants to be, no matter what Seiichi tells him. He believes that the tennis club can give him what he wants.

'Are you stupid?' Seiichi wants to say. 'Are you daft?'

He wants someone strong and confident, someone who can do the duties assigned to them without flinching at the merciless force of Rikkai's regulars.

Someone who can watch a massacre happen without even a cringe.

Someone who keeps their lips sealed to it all.

And someone like _Hitoshi Matsumoto_ can't possibly do that.

The boy may be undeterred now but Seiichi knows that from deep within there is a gentle kindness. No matter how passionate he becomes he is still modest and reserved. Those ocean eyes of his reflect his true quiet nature, his tranquil character. Even if he's changed now those old traits will still rest inside him.

Someone like Hitoshi Matsumoto can never forget how it's like to be a living human.

He will only struggle if he becomes Rikkai's manager. He may not play but he will stand beside the courts every day, watching an army of demons prepare for war, waiting for the imminent collapse of a neighboring kingdom. He won't be able to stomach it.

And crazily enough, that makes Seiichi want to recruit him even more.

He wants to watch Hitoshi crack down, he wants to witness the boy's realization that Rikkai is not a utopia.

He wants to make the boy stop _trying_ because—

 _'Because even monsters have hearts.'_

The words he spoke from earlier suddenly enter Seiichi's conscience. _Because even monsters have hearts._ Is that what he believes? Does he think that by denying Rikkai's sins he can somehow cope?

... No.

... That's not it.

Because he knows _they_ are still human. He knows that Seiichi is not a god, but a boy like him. He knows that even if on the courts they become demons, they still laugh, cry, and love out of it. They still enjoy tennis because tennis is what makes them alive.

... And he also knows there's nothing inhumane about the desire to win and strive forward.

"How dare you..." he whispers to no one, "... how _dare_ you remind this demigod that he must still breathe."

And he waits for a moment. He lies still in bed—not even a single thought crossing his mind. It isn't until a second later that he sits up in bed and glances at the planner on his bedside table.

 **"Thank you. HM."** is what he sees first. It was funny how before he didn't pay much mind to this comment, and yet now it filled him with such a light fluttery feeling. He grabs the pen and brings the planner to his lap.

When the pen tip touches the paper, he pauses.

Hitoshi Matsumoto is an odd boy who is more than what meets the eye. He is capable of change and understands more you think he does. When you think he'll sit down and obey he stands and rebels silently. His aura is calm and patient but does not deter when confronted.

He's a suitable candidate after all.

With a soft snort, Seiichi writes his name down.

"Welcome to the club, manager."

* * *

 **[A/N] - [Please read]**

 **THIS CHAPTER. THIS FREAKING CHAPTER. I WAS PLANNING AT LEAST 5000 WORDS AND IT'S 11000+. HOLY CRAP.**

 **Anyways, yes, a lot happened in this chapter. I'm sorry if it's a bit much, but I need to get the main plot going. But if you feel that there's anything I need to work on, please tell me...!**

 **And also, I plan to skip straight to their third year. Don't worry, I'm not just going to abandon how he became manager. Next chapter is going to be like a review of the process Hitoshi went through to become manager, and his initial feelings towards it. If I did everything step-by-step the prologue would take too long.**

 **HOLY CRAP, THIS WAS JUST THE PROLOGUE THE WHOLE TIME? Yes, it was just the prologue.**

 **I'm also going to try to insert more humor into the next chapters. They're not going to be as serious as the first three chapters were... in the beginning, at least.**

 **And oh yes, to those who've read S &D, you'll already be noticing just how different this is going to be. Instead of being the gardening club president he joins the tennis club as their manager. It'll develop Hitoshi's relationships with everyone better.**

 **BTW, I think I'm going to do a one-shot series for this remake. So like a remake for S &D. Would it be an AU for an AU? Or a remake, for a remake, for a remake?**

 **Oh man, I think I'm gonna stop now. But yeah, don't be surprised if I start another one-shot series.**

 **My advice is don't read both at once, or you'll be very confused.**

 **Anyways, I think I'm going to end this A/N soon. It's getting a bit too long. So thank you to those who fave/follow and thank you to those who reviewed! I love your encouragements and I love you for taking the time to do it!**

 **Thank you!**


	4. Skies are Blue

Chapter 04: Skies are Blue

 _"Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving."_

\- Terry Pratchet, _A Hat Full of Sky_

* * *

The skies were blue.

Hitoshi Matsumoto, 3rd-year in Rikkai Dai Fuzoku Chuu, noticed this. He was also probably going to be the only one who really noticed it. Not that everyone else on the tennis courts didn't already know this obvious fact (if they didn't then Hitoshi would be very concerned).

He was just simply... _fascinated_ by it.

He knew he had learned about it in his science class before but he wondered again; why is it so beautifully azure? What causes this stretched canvas to be dyed in such a lovely shade of blue? Whatever the reason may have been Hitoshi would probably never remember. He never had the best memory to begin with anyways.

In the background he could hear the thwacking of tennis balls against tennis racquets. The beat is irregular and the thwacks come at different intervals. Sometimes they overlap each other, sometimes they even (miraculously) synchronize.

The 1st-years are not yet very good at swinging, he notes.

Hitoshi continues to gaze at the sky.

It was so soothing, this color. It blanketed over the world silently and patient, like curtains, until the stars above came to present their masterpiece. A small smile spread across Hitoshi's face as he thought of this silly notion. In fact, he was so preoccupied with the thought that he didn't hear the sounds of approaching footsteps.

"What are you smiling about, Matsu-senpai?" piped a voice from behind, almost scaring the 3rd-year manager out of his skin. He whipped his head around and came face-to-face with only his _favorite_ kouhai.

Akaya Kirihara's emerald eyes were wide with curiosity. Unlike Hitoshi's blue ones, his did not reflect the sky or the ocean; only his mischievous character. Though now they did not. They were, as he noticed, curious. He was aware that his odd behavior often caught the attention of the 2nd-year.

Hitoshi still remembered how Akaya at first did not accept him as manager because of this.

 _'But he's not a cute girl.'_

 _'But he's so weird. And he's foreign.'_

 _'But he's not foreign, that would've been so cool.'_

 _'But he's... such a weakling."_

A wry smile stretched across his face as he recalled all this. For a twelve-year-old, Akaya was savage at the time.

"Matsu-senpai? What's up? You look a bit spooked now." Akaya piped again with a bright grin. He was always so friendly (not to mention _clingy_ ) with Hitoshi now. Not that Hitoshi particularly minded. He was actually fond of the younger boy, even if he always had to berate his childish behavior. Having Akaya around reminded him of Cat, as both were affectionate and pined for attention daily.

"Why is the sky so blue, Akaya?" he suddenly questioned, enticing a surprised look from the 2nd-year. His lips pursed at the strange question as he thought of an answer.

"That's a weird question."

* * *

 _"That's a stupid question."_

 _Hitoshi glanced over to the 1st-year next to him. He was hurt by the rude answer, but said nothing. The boy didn't even seem to care that he was blatantly sneering at his senpai. Hitoshi stomached it with a smile and looked away from him. "A-Aa... is it? I guess it kinda was..."_

* * *

"I wonder why too."

Hitoshi shifted his gaze from the ocean above and onto his kouhai, who seemed genuinely interested. His head lifted was at an angle and he held his racquet behind his back as he rocked back and forth on his heels. A corner of Hitoshi's lips quirked up, making an awkward smile.

His response had changed to a better one.

Before he could remark anything something rested itself upon his shoulder. He turned his head to see a tall lad with neat chestnut brown hair, and he donned the full yellow tennis club uniform (with jersey included) despite the heat of late spring. His perpetually-closed eyes still seemed to be fixed on him, strangely enough.

"To answer your question Matsumoto, Akaya, the sky is blue because molecules in the air scatter blue light more than red. This is only in daytime, however, as in the evening—"

"Wait, it's okay, Yanagi," Hitoshi swiftly interrupts, "I don't really want an actual answer."

"Oh. That is odd. But if you say so..." he murmured somewhat dejectedly. Hitoshi gave him a limp grin, and he was sincerely sorry for cutting the fellow 3rd-year off; however, if he hadn't, then Renji Yanagi would've continued on and on with his science. The teenager was incredibly intelligent for his age and he would sometimes run Hitoshi's ear off with his extensive range of knowledge.

Still... it's better than before. Before, Renji (though he was not the most impolite of his teammates at the time) always seemed to ignore his presence. Of course Hitoshi knew that the brunet harbored no ill feelings towards him, but whenever they were alone together there was always an edgy silence. In Hitoshi's case, that is.

Even when he'd tried to make (force) a conversation, the brunet would only give blunt replies. Any form of conversation was almost always immediately shot down with a flat-toned "yes" or "no". If Hitoshi was lucky he'd get at least _one_ proper independent clause out of the data master.

"Well, let's not dawdle," Renji says pointedly, "Gen'ichirou will be upset with us if we are not on the court within fifteen seconds."

Hitoshi tilted his head and let out a knowing sigh. Of course Gen'ichirou would get mad. Not a day of practice went by without Gen'ichirou yelling at at least _one_ of them. Oh yes, Hitoshi was no exception to a wrathful Gen'ichirou Sanada. There was once an occurrence where Hitoshi failed to lock up after evening practice and an entire basket of one-hundred tennis balls was spirited away within the night. He was punished enough laps to last a lifetime (but he'd passed out before they were even close to completed) and the tennis balls were never found.

Suspiciously enough, a week after that incident there was a prank set upon the tennis club that involved many, _many_ tennis balls. But that was another story for another time.

An arm that Hitoshi quickly came to realize belonged to Akaya soon linked itself around his own. The black-haired boy flashed him a wide toothy grin and began to haul him onto the court. "Come on Matsu-senpai, let's go! Today I'm finally gonna beat that old man!" he exclaims as the beige blonde reluctantly stumbles along.

"And who might this 'old man' you are going to 'beat' be?" came a cool voice from behind the two. Akaya stiffened where he stood with wide emerald eyes disclosing fear. Shivering like a wet dog he gradually turned around to face the tall teenager (man?) behind him.

His angular face was covered by heavy shadows under his black cap, his stout arms folded across his broad chest. His sharp hazel eyes seemed to glow threateningly.

Gen'ichirou Sanada has never looked so ominous.

"V-Vice-captain Sanada." Akaya stuttered as he pulled at his uniform collar. "Oh. I was... uh, d-did I call you an old man? Hehe, must have been a slip of the tongue. I swear." he laughs nervously again before letting go of Hitoshi's arm and taking a step back. Gen'ichirou cocks his head and a corner of his lips twitch up to form a malicious smirk. "Akaya... you aren't beating anyone _anytime_ soon if you _don't get on those damn courts_ and start _practicing!"_

The 2nd-year pouted and turned on his heels, running off as he grumbled a string of curses under his breath. They went unheard by the 3rd-year vice-captain (or were they?), luckily.

Gen'ichirou turned his gaze down at the beige blonde next. "Matsumoto, I also have a word to say with you."

Hitoshi blinked twice in surprise as he met Gen'ichirou's eyes. "Huh? Wh... what is it?" he questioned cautiously, eyelids narrowing from anticipation. Usually whenever Gen'ichirou needed to 'talk' it meant someone was about to get enough laps to kill even the most fit of runners.

Oh no, had he forgotten to lock up yesterday? Hitoshi prayed desperately that he hadn't.

"Yukimura called me earlier. He says that you haven't been answering your phone and you haven't gone to report club activities in two weeks." Gen'ichirou addressed coolly, eyeing the light-beige haired teen. "What have you been doing?"

Well... at least one-hundred tennis balls weren't stolen again.

Renji glanced between the both of them before casually waving goodbye. From the way things were heading this was a matter to be discussed between vice-captain and manager only. Hitoshi returned the brunet's wave until he could only see his back, then placed his attention back onto Gen'ichirou.

"Ah, sorry... I'll make sure I do that today. During the past two weeks I've been caring for Satoshi—you know, my little brother—since my mom was out on a family emergency and my dad works many night-shifts. The babysitter that comes over is only able to work during the day, since she's busy during evenings. And just so you know, Satoshi's quiet but he likes having attention, so if I answered the phone he would've started throwing a fit." he grinned sheepishly, scratching at his head. _'But it seems like captain also likes having attention, huh...'_

The corners of Gen'ichirou's lips twitched up again, but this time forming a strangely unsettling smile rather than his usual smirk. Well he _tried,_ and Hitoshi really gave him credit for it. Though it may have disturbed the beige blonde more than it assured him, at least the attempt was nice.

"No, I understand your pain, Matsumoto. I have a nephew at home that can be real troublesome as well." he confessed with a breathless laugh. Hitoshi gave him a wide grin and chuckled, "A nephew, huh? For a moment I thought you were going to say 'son'."

At this Gen'ichirou immediately scowled, "Are you implying something, Matsumoto?"

* * *

 _"Are you implying something, Matsumoto-san?"_

 _Hitoshi peeked at the black-haired teenager's face. Even though he was already a dour teenager the expression he wore on his face was somehow even grumpier than it previously was. His thick eyebrows were furrowed into crooked lines and his eyes seemed to burn with an igneous wrath._

 _They'd only talked twice before and Hitoshi was already off to a bad start._

 _The beige blonde smiled ruefully, "N-No... I mean, I just think you look... a little older than... thirteen."_

 _His brow twitched. "Precisely... **how** old?" he growled._

 _Hitoshi shrugged, still smiling._

 _The question was left unanswered as he strolled off onto the courts._

* * *

A small smile stretched across Hitoshi's voice as he turned on his heels and began to saunter off towards the court. He wasn't quite physically prepared for any strenuous morning activities.

Fortunately Gen'ichirou decided to let his comment go, instead following him onto the court and starting off morning practice barking commands towards the club members. Hitoshi was usually left to watch the regulars. Part of his position meant having to shadow over the extraordinary players and making sure they didn't fool around. If they did, he was to report it to Gen'ichirou.

Naturally Hitoshi did a wonderful job, but half the time he was lenient enough to leave their foolishness out of his club summaries.

He stood in place for a minute, eyes skimming over the courts. Immediately he caught glimpse of Kuwahara Jackal and Bunta Marui getting prepared for a light rally. His expression brightened and he bounced over to their court.

The moment the doubles pair noticed him approaching them they both shared wide grins. Bunta was the first to greet him, however, as he waved his hand vigorously at the fellow 3rd-year. When Hitoshi was close enough the two exchanged high-fives.

"Yo! Manager! What's up?" the redhead beamed. Hitoshi lifted his shoulders with a casual shrug. "Not much. I'm just gonna watch you guys play."

"Oi, make sure that you talk about our little match to captain for us, 'kay? I want him to know about how I made Jackal cry like a pansy!" Bunta chuckled as Kuwahara appeared more or less peeved. He shot the redhead a glare before fixing his eyes on the beige blonde.

"Ignore everything that sugar idiot just said, Matsumoto." he sighed, tapping his racquet against his shoulder in an impatient fashion. "We're just going to have a light rally."

Hitoshi replied with a teasing grin. He positioned his digits into the "OK" sign, drawing a smile from the dark-skinned teen.

Once the two got into their respective places on the court Hitoshi's mind began to drift.

The doubles pair were probably the most pleasant of their teammates. From the very first day Hitoshi was introduced to the team as their manager they handled him politely. Now that wasn't to say they were all sugar and spice, no, but they at least attempted to be supportive. Bunta offered him a piece of mint gum every time they talked and Kuwahara gifted him a detailed map of the courts and locker room, also including brief tips on how to approach each regular.

His lips curve into a soft smile as he recalls this. They were probably the biggest reason why he endured his dreadful starter days as manager.

Hitoshi steadily watched the two return the other's shot, both moving easily from side to side or back and forth. Regardless of the court's large size they seemed to move so fluidly.

Bunta is quick on his feet and blows bubbles while nonchalantly swatting at the neon ball. He is undeterred yet; however, so is Kuwahara. The Brazilian races at all angles on the court as he returns every shot the redhead gives him. It's not a real match, so of course this isn't their best performance. Still, it is a sight to see.

For a moment, Hitoshi could swear that Bunta's amethyst eyes flicker over to where he stands. It was fleeting but Hitoshi is positive he saw it. In a split second the redhead speeds across the court and towards the net. Another green bubble blows from his lips as he skids to a stop, his knees slightly bent. When he strikes the ball it ricochets perfectly atop the net cords, rolling along slowly.

 _'Ah...'_ Hitoshi watched with wide eyes; no matter how many times he's witnessed it in action he is still impressed. _'... Marui's Tightrope Walking'._

The ball finally teeters, and inevitably drops onto Kuwahara's court.

Immediately Bunta flashed him with his trademark peace sign. He's eyes are gleaming and he says, "Aren't I genius?"

* * *

 _"Aren't I genius?"_

 _Hitoshi blinked several times at the strangely posed red-haired boy winking at him. He was originally venturing the courts, but the match going on had him unintentionally drawn in. The tennis club's official doubles pairs were playing against each other, and the one named Bunta Marui had just hit an astonishing drop volley._

 _It took a long minute of awkward silence for Hitoshi to finally realize the boy was actually addressing him._

 _"A-Aa... mm-hm." he nodded meekly. The redhead beamed at him. "I thought so!"_

* * *

Hitoshi smiled at the redhead. "Of course. Why would I think anything else?"

On the other hand, the Brazilian Kuwahara rolled his eyes. Leave it to Bunta to show off any chance he got. With a deep sigh he pointed his racquet towards Bunta. "Can you stop playing around already? I'd like to be able to rally with you _once_ without your little dramatic performances."

Bunta shrugged, "I can't help it that I'm naturally cool."

It took all of Kuwahara's willpower not to visibly gag. "You keep on thinking that, smart one."

There was a soft chuckle from Hitoshi before he waved goodbye, turning around and beginning to stroll off. "I'm gonna go and see how Akaya is doing. You two rally quick, before our vice-captain scolds you for having a match." he called out as he started to look for the seaweed-head (not that he'd ever call him that in real life).

It was actually fairly easy. His wild hair wasn't very difficult to distinguish among all the shades of brown and black.

He jogged over to where the boy sat on the court quietly stretching out his legs. His emerald eyes seemed to be absent of a focal point as he repeatedly leaned over his knees to touch the toe caps of his sneakers. However, as soon as he noticed his senpai approaching him he paused his stretches and looked up.

"Matsu-senpai?"

Hitoshi smiled. "Who else but me, Akaya?" he cooed as he sat himself down in front of the black-haired boy. He mimicked the open-legged pose his kouhai had and started to do the same stretches as he. Of course he wasn't _nearly_ as athletically consummate as his kouhai, but that didn't mean he was a total weakling either. Hitoshi took pride in being at least flexible.

"Why are you here, Matsu-senpai?" Akaya inquired of his senpai, "It's not like I'm doing anything interesting. After this I'll be doing laps, then more work-outs. You'll have more fun tagging along Yanagi-senpai or Niou-senpai or something."

The beige blonde feebly shook his head. "It's okay, Akaya. Easy exercise like this lets us converse with no problems." he replied brightly. Akaya's face lit up as he continued his leg stretches again. Usually Hitoshi was accompanied by Bunta or Kuwahara, so it wasn't often that they were alone together. It wasn't like Akaya was clingy (at least he _thought_ he wasn't clingy) towards his light-beiged haired senpai, but he liked being able to have a one-on-one conversation with him from time to time.

"Matsu-senpai, I can't remember the last time we talked together like this." Akaya murmured. His voice was strained since he resumed his long stretches but Hitoshi understood him just fine. He extended over his right leg and poked the toe cap of his shoe. He could feel his shoulders crack as he stretched out his arms, and there was a brief moment of pain before it dulled to a comfortable throb.

"Hmm... Akaya?" Hitoshi piped cheerfully. The black-haired boy peeked at his senpai for only a second before returning to his stretches. "Yeah, Matsu-senpai?"

"I'm going to visit captain this evening. Do you have anything to give to him?" Hitoshi asked as he fell onto his back. He bent one knee and raised the opposite leg, keeping a firm hold on his thigh to keep balance as he begun to rotate his flexed ankle. "Or do you have anything you want me to say to him for you?"

"It's cool. Just tell him I was as awesome as always or something." Akaya casually replied. When he looked up from his own stretches he stopped to watch his senpai. The beige blonde didn't seem to be aware of his kouhai staring... then again, he could've just been ignoring him as he usually did whenever Akaya started staring. He'd gotten used to the boy's extensive gazes.

Finally, after a long minute, Hitoshi dropped his leg and lolled his head towards Akaya. "What is it, Akaya?"

The boy cocked his head. "Matsu-senpai... you're always doing leg stretches. I mean, I see you do other kinds of stretches too, but you're primarily doing leg stretches, even when you're not joining club activities. Why's that?"

Hitoshi blinked. "You noticed?" he grinned, honestly impressed with his kouhai. He always knew the boy was more perceptive than he appeared to be, but he didn't take his percipience to be so accurate. His kouhai was evolving at a terrifying rate.

"I do a lot of biking around the city, so it's become a bit of a habit. Besides, if I get rusty I wouldn't be able to keep up with you monsters, haha." he laughed, mildly amused with himself. Akaya shared the chuckle. "Yeah, that's true."

Soon after silence took over their conversation. The two lay seated on the asphalt ground, performing individual stretches while morning breezes rustled through nearby trees. The air was crisp and smelled of coming summer and coming matches; when it was almost as silent as this, the thwacking of tennis balls against tennis racquets soon returned to Hitoshi's ears.

 _Thwack._

 _Thwink._

 _Thwack. Thwack._

 _Thwink._

"The sounds are wrong." says Akaya, his nose crinkling.

 _Thwack._

 _Thwink._

"What do you mean, Akaya?" his senpai inquires of him. He knows the sounds are wrong, but he wants to hear what his kouhai has to say about it. _He's_ the one who actually plays tennis, after all.

 _Thwack. Thwack._

 _Thwink._

"They aren't hitting hard enough. It's not powerful, like ka-pow!" Akaya's arms suddenly splay dramatically, to add effect to his point. Hitoshi's brow raises in question. "I don't think that's how a tennis ball should sound when it hits the racquet, Akaya."

 _Thwack._

 ** _POP!_**

Suddenly, there is a tumultuous chorus of screams, and something bright yellow whizzes past Akaya (who was mere centimeters away from the unfortunate loss of a nose), then a very clear (not to mention _vociferous_ )—

 _"AMAGAWA!_ CONTROL YOUR DAMN STRENGTH, BOY!"

Hitoshi blinks.

Oh. That's Gen'ichirou.

"Now _that's_ what it should sound like." Akaya chirped brightly. He had been completely oblivious to the ball nearly clocking him in the face. Then again, Hitoshi is thankful it'd (quite literally) flown past him, otherwise he'd have to break a few bones holding back an angry (again, quite literally) devil.

"Hm. It's a nice sound." Hitoshi hummed nervously. Suddenly a yellow figure is racing towards him and Akaya. The closer the figure gets the clearer the image becomes.

Hitoshi recognizes the black cap first.

"Sanada! What brings you here?" he called out. The vice-captain was practically storming towards them now. "Matsumoto! Akaya! I saw the ball come here. Are you two alright?"

Hitoshi nods his head and smiles, "Aha, we're just fine. But it seems Amagawa-kun got a bit passionate, didn't he?"

"You wouldn't believe." the vice-captain growled. He glanced between the two before looking into the distance. There was a pause in his breaths for the briefest moment before he looked at Hitoshi. "Do you mind fetching the ball, Matsumoto? I apologize for taking your time, but you're free, and—"

"—it's perfectly okay, Sanada." the manager interrupted with a feeble gaze. He stood up from his place on the court and dusted off his jersey. "I don't mind at all. Besides, it'll give me some time to myself. It'll be a nice break from you noisy folk."

"Ah, I thank you profusely." Gen'ichirou replied, taking his cap off and running a hand through his dark hair.

Akaya stood up as well. "I'm gonna go with him!"

"No, Akaya, you stay here and—"

"Sanada, please." Hitoshi interrupted again. He raised a hand and smiled ruefully at his vice-captain. "If practice is about to end I will send him back."

There was a twitch in their vice-captain's eyebrows. Finally, after a second of contemplation, he released a vehement sigh and shoved his cap back onto his head. "You're going to spoil him, Matsumoto."

"He was already spoiled, and I have you and Yukimura to thank, Sanada."

"Hey! Don't talk like I'm not here!"

"Why do you treat him as our child?!"

"He isn't? I could've sworn you and Yukimura—"

"Matsu-senpai!"

"Bah, I've had enough of this nonsense, just _go!"_ Gen'ichirou finally huffed, grabbing both Hitoshi and Akaya by the cuffs of their jerseys and shoving them forward. Hitoshi chuckled and continuously pushed Akaya forward. "I'll bring your son back as soon as possible, Sanada! He's safe in auntie's care!"

"100 LAPS WHEN YOU RETURN, MATSUMOTO!"

A few more shouts could be heard from their vice-captain before they were finally too far away to be able to comprehend him. His deep voice was only echoes now.

Once the two were off the courts and towards the trees, Hitoshi proceeded to survey the property. "Hm... Sanada was looking somewhere over here..." he muttered as they continued to skim. But, without any clear reasoning, Hitoshi glanced towards the fences. He finally noticed what Gen'ichirou had noticed.

"Oh."

"Oh what?"

"Look over there."

"What is i—oh shit."

"Yeah."

How strange that he and Akaya did not notice it before. Perhaps they weren't interested enough to catch sight of a large hole in the fence. Oh yes, there was a _hole_ in the fence. It seemed the tennis ball was struck so strongly it also ripped right through the chain-link fence with ease.

Honestly, Rikkai was a breeding ground for monsters.

"Well... now we know it's definitely nowhere near the tennis courts." Hitoshi gawked in pure amazement. With a hit like that he wouldn't even be fazed to know if the ball flew all the way to America. Akaya, whom was more or less apathetic to the situation, shrugged. "I've seen stronger than that. I've even hit stronger hits than that."

"I wouldn't doubt you," the beige blonde murmured. There was a moment of silence between them as they gazed at the hole in the fence. Then Akaya impatiently tugged on the sleeve of Hitoshi's jersey. "Let's go look for it, before practice ends."

Hitoshi nodded, "Mm.. okay." he hummed as he turned on his heels and begun to survey the area again.

As he and Akaya ventured along, something about the situation started to seem _nostalgic_ to Hitoshi. When the sun was only beginning to settle into its throne high in the sky, and the blue pigment of the ocean above was growing into a wonderfully bright azure, and only two or three clouds drifted along with the gentle breezes...

Yes, something about this was awfully familiar to Hitoshi.

It bothered him. What was it?

It all seemed so _clear,_ but his memories were still so hazy.

"Matsu-senpai?"

"Akaya."

"D'you remember how last year, I hit a ball through the fence, and vice-captain Sanada was so mad he punished me with like, a hundred or something laps?" he asked curiously. Hitoshi blinked twice in surprise and shifted his attention from the sky to his kouhai. Now that Akaya mentioned it, the obscure memories were becoming overt to his mind.

Yes, in fact, he did remember that. He remembered more than just that too.

"Oh yeah, and he sent me to help you look for the tennis ball?" he added with a mild chuckle. "Then as I graciously helped you look for the thing you returned the favor by sticking a beetle down my shirt? And I ended up freaking out because I didn't know what it was crawling on my back, which resulted in a sprained ankle that didn't heal until a week later?"

Akaya's face contorted into a cringe mixed of guilt and embarrassment. "Oh... right... that too."

A knowing smile formed on Hitoshi's face as he reached out to ruffle the boy's hair. "Hey, no need to beat yourself up over something that happened in the past. I was just teasing you earlier. Besides, I never hated you for that. You were a kid, and kids aren't perfect."

"But Matsu-senpai... it's just that you—"

"Ah-ah, we agreed not to talk about that part, didn't we?" his senpai chided with a wave of his fingers. "What I did then I still don't regret. It hurt, yes, but it was for your sake y'know."

Akaya opened his mouth in protest before promptly shutting it.

It wasn't worth causing a ruckus over.

So when he shrugs sheepishly and returns to their original objective (searching for the lost tennis ball), Hitoshi's gaze pans towards the great blue sky again.

It all seems so evident now; the memories of that day's events are left clear to his mind.

* * *

 _"AKAYA!"_

 _The new vice-captain's thunderous roar echoed across the tennis courts._

 _Practice tennis matches went forgotten and tennis balls rolled lifelessly along the ground as everyone on the court stopped what they'd been doing. Their focal point was now on the center of the court, where a tall teenager stood before a smaller boy. The only thing separating the two was that flimsy net._

 _Gen'ichirou Sanada looks absolutely apoplectic with Akaya Kirihara's apparent disinterest in whatever he'd cause (no one was positive on what this 'cause' could be but there was at least a 99% chance he'd done something)._

 _The vice-captain was trembling with fury. His racquet kept shaking and his teeth were grinding so hard together it could make sawdust. Still, he tried to compose himself._

 _He doesn't want to make a scene. As the newly appointed vice-captain of Rikkai's tennis club he does not want to tarnish his role by distracting those around him._

 _"Akaya," he said more calmly, "The purpose of rallying is not to see how hard you can hit the ball, but to train your consistency and your accuracy. You may have talent, but you are not perfect."_

 _"I know that, but you can't just expect me to suddenly start hitting lightly... I've always had heavy swings..." Akaya muttered under his breath. The fact that he even has the nerve to show this kind of disrespect to his senpai..._

 _"Don't give me excuses!" his vice-captain hissed as he wrenched off the cap on his head and ran a hand through his hair. He's struggling to keep himself strong and presentable. He wants to be a fair role-model to his kouhai, Akaya included, but it's beginning to prove difficult when everyone around him seems to be making mistakes on purpose._

 _His eyes darted over to the only boy who seemed indifferent to Gen'ichirou's outburst._

 _It's that one boy, the one that his captain had suggested (more like demanded but who was Gen'ichirou to disobey the deity) become Rikkai's tennis club manager._

 _He stood there with those calm blue eyes, watching them silently. However there was something about those blue eyes of his that reminded Gen'ichirou of Seiichi, but he didn't know what the fuck it was. It bothered him, but he was above mistreating a club member simply because he did not like their default stare._

 _Though now Gen'ichirou wanted to think that the boy was judging him, judging his paper-thin patience; he wanted to think that the boy's gaze was analogous to Seiichi's expression of disapproval and that is why he was so agitated—but deep inside he knew that that was not the case. He knew that the boy was only watching because something was happening and it is normal human behavior to be curious of any situation._

 _But damn, those eyes... it's those deep ocean eyes of his that get him so worked up._

 _"So... what are we gonna do now? D'you want me to just get another ball or somethin'?" Akaya asked impatiently. Gen'ichirou was just about done with Akaya's snippy tone. He whipped his head back towards the boy and snapped, "I want you to go out there and get the ball back. Then once you're back, you can get your ass on the track and give me forty laps."_

 _"What? But vice-captain—"_

 _"You lost it. Now you get to go find it." he says with a tone that proves his finality. Then he glanced over to Hitoshi. The boy was still watching. "Matsumoto!" he barked, catching the boy's attention. The beige blonde blinked in surprise and pointed to himself._

 _Had he not been paying attention all this time?!_

 _Gen'ichirou huffed in irritable fashion and gibed, "Do you see another Matsumoto here?"_

 _The boy blinked again and feebly shook his head. "S-Sorry... Sanada-san..."_

 _At least he had the decency to apologize._

 _The vice-captain gestured over to Akaya with a nod of his head. "Go assist Akaya. I want the two of you to find the tennis ball he carelessly shot through the fence."_

 _Hitoshi, once more, blinks several times. "... Whoa. He shot a ball through the fence?!"_

 _Just how incompetent is this manager?!_

 _"Yes, now go!" Gen'ichirou says brusquely, and the boy finally understands that his vice-captain is in no mood for this oblivious behavior. The manager quickly nodded his head and faced Akaya. "Um, Kirihara-san—"_

 _"Yeah, yeah, I got it." the 1st-year interrupted. He was miffed with the whole situation but reluctantly decided to obey his vice-captain. This stupid situation isn't worth getting any more laps over. All he needed to do was find the damn ball and that old geezer would stop being so snappy, right?_

 _The manager glanced between the vice-captain and his kouhai. The both of them were in spoiled moods and poor little Hitoshi Matsumoto was caught in between. It was times like these he, for even the most fleeting of moments, regretted becoming the tennis club manager._

* * *

"Matsu-senpai!"

The sound of Akaya's voice pulled Hitoshi from his own thoughts and back into reality. He turned to face the boy and was reasonably surprised to see him standing a few feet away, ecstatically waving his arm; in his hand a tennis ball.

"Oh... that was quick." Hitoshi cooed in awe. Then a wave of guilt overcame him as he realized he hadn't done anything productive. When he should've been looking for the tennis ball as Gen'ichirou requested, he instead stood and dawdled while Akaya did his work. "I'm sorry, Akaya, I should've been helping you..."

"No, it's cool, senpai." he chirped, brushing off the grime on his uniform. He beamed at the beige blonde and directed a hand towards a large tree from behind him. "Besides, the ball got stuck in the branches anyways. You would've never found it if ya kept searching on the ground."

Hitoshi fixed his gaze on the tree. Again, his jaw dropped.

The tree was long and fairly thick in width. But not a single branch was close enough for even someone of Akaya's height to be able to use to hoist their weight up and climb the tree. The fact that Akaya was still able to climb the tree despite the absence of any close branches shocked Hitoshi _wordless._

"Matsu-senpai?"

"... Uh... yeah...?"

"What's wrong? You look a bit pale."

"O-Oh... nothing... it's nothing." he stammered. He was still dazed. And for the past minute, he stood motionless like that, eyes wide and mouth agape. Once he finally broke himself out of shock he forced a casual smile onto his face, nonchalantly patting Akaya's shoulder. "W-Well... good job, Akaya. Let's go back now. Sanada is waiting for us to return the ball. Besides, I still have my 100 laps to run."

"Alright!" the boy grinned, and then proceeded to lift his arm and draw the hand with the tennis ball back as far as he could. By the time it suddenly _slapped Hitoshi in the face_ what Akaya was about to do, he'd already returned the ball to the courts by _launching_ it over the fence. The manager was left to stare like someone had just asked him to strip naked in front of his grandmother.

The ball soared above the courts for a bit, catching the attention of a few members.

"Is it a bird?"

"Birds have wings you dumbass."

"Plane?"

"Are you shitting me right now?"

"It's gotta be Super—oh shit, no man, that's a tennis ball!"

"Don't be so—oh my gods that _is_ a tennis ball."

In the span of a few seconds the neon thing had gone from soaring sky-high in the air to accelerating towards ground-level at a _terrifying_ rate. At this point, most of the club had already noticed it, and backed away from the, in a figurative sense, _cannon ball,_ like a normal human being would.

But there was just one person who had yet to notice the ball. He's a lofty fellow and looks composed, with his arms crossed over his sturdy chest. He wears a black cap that shadows over his face and makes him appear untouchable, as though he is the emperor of Japan. Or rather, tennis.

Yet unbeknownst to this emperor carved of silver and gold, the "cannon ball" was heading right for him.

No one said a thing because they assumed his highness was too great to be hit by a measly tennis ball (they all assume that he'll most likely give them all a show by catching it from behind right before it hits the back of his head).

So when the ball finally got too close, the crowd was prepared to shower words of praise to their vice-captain, who had only the most excellent of reflexes. Surely, their emperor was too great, too robust, for a mere tennis ball—his own tool and weapon. This honorable man (teenager?) would _never -_

 _Thunk!_

"Ow!"

And silence, save for the soft thumping of the tennis ball bouncing to the ground.

One moment ago the entire tennis club was scoffing at a "mere" tennis ball, however now they were scrambling to be at a 100 mile radius from the teenager stumbling on the green asphalt. It wasn't much of a stumble, but even a clumsy step forward still counted.

Of course, it's also enough to make Gen'ichirou Sanada _seething_ with pique.

His thick eyebrows can't possibly furrow any closer together and the shadows over his face darken twicefold. He's trembling so uncontrollably that those watching fear he may very well explode (honestly everyone is genuinely surprised he _hasn't_ exploded yet with the shit he puts up with in this dysfunctional tennis club).

Finally, he looks up with fiery hazel eyes, and only one word comes out of his mouth.

"AKAYAAAAAA!"

* * *

It wasn't even afternoon yet and Akaya had already contrived to get his name screeched by their stentorian vice-captain. Ah yes, it was times like these that Hitoshi questioned his motives when he demanded to become Rikkai's tennis club manager. Not a day went by without Hitoshi having to witness someone getting "The Sanada Talk", a nickname he and Bunta came up with to code for Gen'ichirou's lengthy lectures. It wasn't long until the rest of the tennis club started using the term without their vice-captain's knowledge.

"You best not climb the fence for that ball, 1st-year, lest you get The Sanada Talk."

"Make sure you attend practice daily you guys, or vice-captain Sanada will give you The Sanada Talk."

"I just got The Sanada Talk for accidentally breaking one the of school racquets. Thank goodness he didn't give me The Mighty Sanada Smack, or my cheeks would be red for _days,_ man!"

There were many other piffling instances of The Sanada Talk, but to list all those times would be the equivalent of writing a 1,000 page essay.

Ultimately, right after lambasting his kouhai, Gen'ichirou grounded his knuckles atop the boy's thick head and ordered 100 laps from him. Naturally Akaya struggled to hold his tongue, however still muttered a few choice words under his breath as soon as he turned his back to the older teen.

Hitoshi sighed at this, crossing his arms over his chest while he watched the boy begin to approach him. He was rubbing a spot on top of his head, probably where Gen'ichirou had knuckled him. When Akaya's green eyes finally lifted to meet Hitoshi's stern gaze, the boy glowered at him. "What?" he grumbled, averting his gaze a second later, "You gonna lecture me too?"

"You bet I will." Hitoshi replied coolly, unperturbed by Akaya's moody tone. "What made you think that throwing the ball over the fence would be a good idea?"

Akaya lifted his shoulders before casually dropping them, making a nonchalant shrug. "I don't know, I just wanted to, I guess." he admitted in an offhand tone. Hitoshi's eyebrows lifted into high arches and the look in his aqua-blue eyes revealed his displeasure with the guiltless answer.

"Oh come on, Matsu-senpai!" the boy whined, "I know I probably shouldn't have thrown it, but he didn't have to hit me, y'know! The stupid lecture was bad enough!"

At this, Hitoshi's stiff pose softened some. His arms loosened against each other and his shoulders lowered with the angle of his head. Though a hint of discontent was still lurking in those ocean eyes of his Akaya could tell the manager was starting to sympathize.

"Well, Akaya, at least you weren't _slapped,_ right?" the beige blonde chirped, patting the younger boy's shoulder playfully. Akaya's scowl shifted into a half-hearted pout as he thought over the words his senpai had said. Even though his tone was light, the message was clear.

 _'You're lucky nothing worse happened.'_

"Well, enough of that, I still have my 100 laps to run too. We can suffer together, Akaya!" Hitoshi beamed enthusiastically. He ruffled Akaya's thick mop of unruly black hair in his usual affectionate manner and continued to wear a buoyant smile as he started towards the track. With a grin so exuberant, it was practically contagious. The message went forgotten and a smile mirroring the one his senpai wore stretched over his face.

"OK, senpai!"

Akaya raced towards the track ahead of Hitoshi. He was practically cackling like a mad man now, as though all that happened before was just a silly dream. Once he caught up to the beige blonde he flashed him a row of white teeth before jogging past him. Akaya wasn't so positive that encouraging tribulation was the correct thing to do, but with the way his manager seemed jovial towards the matter all concerns flew right out the window because hey, suffering is always better when you have a companion to share the experience with!

"Yes! That's the spirit Akaya! Every day you have to look forward to being crushed by the great vice-captain Sanada!" cheered Hitoshi as he sped up, keeping with Akaya's pace. There was now a strange glimmer of what could've been insanity (but Akaya wasn't sure) in those great blue eyes of his; it sort of frightened the black-haired boy, but not enough to deter his enthusiasm.

"Yes, senpai!"

"We love the insane amount of laps he punishes us after something stupid is done!"

"Yes, senpai!"

"And once the captain returns from the hospital, we can grovel before his feet like the sad worshipers we are!"

"Oh, uh, yeah, I guess...?"

"Because we love to be humiliated like inhumane beasts!"

"Senpai, I think that's a bit..."

"ISN'T THAT WHAT WE LOVE, AKAYA? WE LOVE TO BE SHOVED TO THE GROUND AND STEPPED ON BY OUR GOD'S HOLY SOLES."

"Senpai, you're scaring me."

"SAY IT WITH ME, AKAYA. WE GIVE TO YOU, OUR LORDS, OUR FLESH AND SOUL. YOU ARE OUR GODS, AND WE ARE YOUR SLAVES."

"Senpai—"

 _"SAY IT!"_

"W-We gi... give to you, o-our lords..."

"LOUDER, AKAYA, _LOUDER!"_

"W-WE GIVE TO YOU, OUR L-LORD... LORDS, OUR FLESH AND... AND..."

"AND SOUL. YOU ARE—"

"—OUR GODS, AND WE ARE YOUR SLAVES."

"GOOD, NOW SAY IT WITH ME! **_WE GIVE TO YOU, OUR LORDS, OUR FLESH AND SOUL! YOU ARE OUR GODS, AND WE ARE YOUR SLAVES. WE GIVE TO YOU, OUR LORDS, OUR FLESH AND SOUL—"_**

From the tennis courts the club members made small mental notes to themselves not to question their ace nor their manager of the events transpiring on the track. It was a bit unnerving, having to listen to their usually level-headed manager grow increasingly mad and ruthlessly impelling their junior ace into non-consensual chanting. Additionally, after each lap was completed, their voices gradually became louder and louder.

Well... it wasn't like this was the _first_ time Hitoshi's snapped. Every once a blue moon his strings would get a little loose and he'd end up doing something to the extreme. But those were stories to be told around a campfire (or to misbehaving 1st-years in attempt to both warn the children of their manager's horrifying breakdowns and scare them into bearing themselves).

Naturally everyone minded their own business. Even their stoic vice-captain, who was admittedly a tad bit disturbed. When Hitoshi was like _that,_ even Gen'ichirou preferred to leave him to his own devices.

Whatever happens, happens.

* * *

When all 100 laps were finally completed and the two boys were nothing but lackluster rag dolls lying face-down on the red-clay track, only one person was brave enough to approach them.

He was a tall boy, with chestnut-brown hair styled into a neat cut. His perennially lustrous spectacles appeared to shine even brighter as he leaned over the dead boys. Hesitantly, he poked the black-haired one's head with the tip of his shoe before leaning down to vigorously wipe off the sweat. Good thing he always carried a handkerchief in his pockets all times.

Just then, a miracle happened! The black-haired boy, albeit only a twitch, finally moved!

He lay motionless for a moment longer. Just when all hope was lost, his fingers begun to tremble. The brunet stood there, an amazed expression changing his usual poker face. He continued to watch in shock as the black-haired boy strove to lift his heavy head. His dull green eyes which used to be so clear, so lively, flickered.

"Ya-Yagyuu-senpai...?"

"Yes, Akaya?" the brunet whispered hoarsely, leaning closer to his weak teammate.

"... C-Can you _not_ be so dramatic...? And help me up...?"

Hiroshi finally cracked a small smile. He grabbed his younger teammate's hands and guided him to his feet. Though Akaya's knees were still bent and he seemed unable to carry his weight, he let go of the brunet's hands and stood his ground. Once he decided that he was capable of walking, he straightened his noodle legs and gave his senpai a frail grin.

"Th-Thanks, Yagyuu-senpai!" he said, before looking down at the forgotten beige blonde. "But Matsu-senpai probably needs more help than me..."

 _"Probably?"_ Hiroshi repeated, lifting a brow, "If the two of you weren't so busy screaming like hooligans, you both could have avoided collapsing to the ground like this." he chided as he leaned down to turn their manager over. Needless to say, both boys weren't expecting the horrible sight before them.

Hitoshi's great ocean eyes were now comparable to a measly puddle. It was like a demon had sucked the soul out of their poor manager and left him to die. Even worse, his mouth was slightly open, a trail of saliva dribbling down his chin. Hiroshi cringed and cautiously wiped the substance off before folding the fabric (he was careful not to touch the wet spots) into a triangle. The cloth was then stuffed into the pocket opposite of where he'd kept it, so that he would remember to throw it away.

"There's no saving him now, Akaya. Our manager is gone."

"N-No way..." Akaya whispered, his own weight finally overbearing him. He fell to his knees as he stared at his lifeless senpai, tears burning the corners of his eyes. "But senpai was so strong..."

Hiroshi wordlessly shook his head, setting a hand on the black-haired boy's shoulder.

"Senpai..." the boy croaked, "SENPAI, _NOOOOOO!"_

Akaya's cry echoed all the way back to the tennis courts. Everyone who heard it stopped what they had been doing, momentarily wondering if someone had died. Truthfully, none of them would be very surprised. At this point, their tennis club had become so unreal nothing really fazed them anymore.

Gen'ichirou, who also head the wail, was only able to let out a deep sigh. He turned to his good friend Renji, who was taking a break from his wall rally and now drinking from his water bottle. With a flat look in his eyes and a dead tone, he muttered, "It was a mistake to send Yagyuu down there, wasn't it?"

Renji smiled.

"100%."

* * *

Hitoshi opened his eyes to a brilliant blue sky.

It was a nice color, so pure and cyan. It reminded Hitoshi of the sea.

In the background, he could hear something. Thwacking noises, was what it seemed to be. And for a moment, he listened to the irregular beats, wondering why they sounded so _familiar._ Like... tennis balls against tennis racquets.

Oh...

... Oh yes.

He's the tennis club manager.

And it's still morning practice.

Right now he should be monitoring the regulars.

Hitoshi blinked several times, getting adjusted to the sun's radiance. As he stretched out his aching limbs, he suddenly tilted to the side. Before he could stop himself, he'd already fallen face-first into green asphalt. Of course, because what he needed was to add more pain to his already-aching body.

"O-Ouch..." the manager groaned while he struggled to lift himself up.

"Wow, had a nice nap there, manager?" came a voice from the bench he'd been sleeping on. It was low and had a mocking tone to it. Of course, this voice could only belong to...

"Oh be quiet, Niou." Hitoshi grumbled as he got onto his hands. He took a moment to compose himself, then stood up on his quivering legs. All the while Masaharu Niou, a 3rd-year and regular, watched his manager with an amused expression.

"Shouldn't you be practicing whatever right now, Niou?" Hitoshi asked coolly, eyes fixed on his smug expression. Whenever Masaharu looked like that, it meant he was definitely up to no good. Worst case scenario, everyone was murdered in result of a cruel prank and he was planning to kill the only witness.

Now _of course_ that wasn't the case, but with someone as unpredictable as Masaharu you really couldn't blame Hitoshi for thinking something so absurd.

Masaharu snickered at the beige blonde, "I should, but you were sleeping, and the chance was just too perfect!"

Hitoshi was initially confused by the seemingly irrelevant answer before it'd suddenly dawned onto him that Masaharu had _done_ something to him while he slept. As though someone had just set him on fire, he begun to panic, looking for the closest towel.

There just so happened to be a towel around Niou's shoulders, and without thinking, he'd just pulled it off and began wiping at his face.

"O-Oi! That's got my sweat on it, you idiot!" Masaharu exclaimed, sitting up and trying to stop the manager from wiping his—er, _bodily fluids,_ for lack of a better term—onto the rest of his face. Once he succeeded in wrestling away the towel from the boy he flung it onto the bench and sighed. "Besides, I didn't do anything to you, I was just teasin'."

Hitoshi blinked, unfazed by previous events. "Oh. You could've told me that beforehand."

"Well, I didn't know you were gonna do _that,"_ retorted Masaharu, picking the towel up from the bench again and folding it. "Had I known I would've picked something else to say." he continued as he set the towel over his shoulders (where it _belonged_ ).

Hitoshi shrugged in response, an apologetic smile clear on his face. Then he stuffed his hands into his pockets, yawning, "Why was I sleeping on the bench anyways? I think I was running laps with Akaya or somethin'..."

"You _were."_ Masaharu confirmed, leaning to the side of the bench and picking up his racquet. "The two of you were chanting or some shit like that. I didn't really pay attention."

 _'Chanting?'_ Hitoshi quirked his head to the side. _'I don't remember doing that.'_

"I guess you passed out, cause Akaya was freaking screeching like a baby about how you died and it was all the vice-captain's fault. Then Yagyuu was carrying you on his back, and he dropped you onto the bench." the white-haired boy continued, examining his racquet for a moment. Then he turned to the manager, hitting his elbow with the instrument in a playful manner. "D'you know how long it took for Akaya to stop wailing? It was hilarious, but damn was he annoying."

A light chuckle emitted from Hitoshi. "Oh really? He's incredibly attached to me, so I guess a reaction like that isn't much of a surprise, hehe."

"It's not, but still, it's too early in the fucking—"

"—language, Niou."

"— _flipping._ It's too early in the _flipping_ morning for his screaming."

A weak smile formed on Hitoshi's face as he gently punched Niou's arm, "Come on Niou, you were once a 2nd-year too. Besides, at least he isn't as rowdy as he was last year." he cooed in a soft voice. Then he directed his attention skyward, the faint smile on his face reminding Masaharu of the boy's 2nd-year self.

When the beige blonde first became manager, his plain and placid nature didn't bring much hope for him. Additionally, he wasn't physically on par with even the _non-_ regulars. He also had absolutely _zero_ knowledge on what tennis was or how you played it. At the time, Masaharu couldn't fathom why one would join the tennis club without even knowing what a damn _serve_ was.

Now, that wasn't to say the boy was entirely out-of-place.

He did laps and stretches with the rest of the club members and even participated in swing practice at times. He took notes during practice matches and for a newbie, he was surprisingly insightful. Even Renji hadn't expected for the boy to be able to analyze each regular so eerily accurate. Despite the fact that his reticent character isolated him from the others, he really did keep a close eye on their actions.

Perhaps it was because of his astute nature that Masaharu had acknowledged him so quickly. Or rather, because his astute nature reminded Masharu of his captain. Yes, his _captain._ Though their eyes were of contrasting shades they were both enigmatic and held something unreadable, something mysterious. Their appearances betrayed their psyche.

Even now, when Hitoshi was so different from his 2nd-year self, he was still not easily predictable.

"Niou?"

Masaharu blinked, somewhat surprised. The silence between them had stretched for so long that he'd forgotten they were even standing next to each other. A sheepish expression took over Masaharu's face and he scratched the back of his head. "Puri."

"I think it was a morning like this that we were talking about Akaya." the beige blonde replied, not yet turning his gaze away from the sky. Masaharu cocked his head and lifted his head upwards as well. He blocked the sunlight with his hand and squinted. What a nice shade of blue.

"... Do you hate him?"

* * *

 _"Do you hate him?"_

 _The question caught Hitoshi off-guard. He whipped his head towards the voice, shocked to see a boy around the same age as he standing next to him. It wasn't like Hitoshi has never seen him before in his life, in fact, he was aware that the boy was even one of the regulars._

 _It's just that Masaharu Niou has never bothered to approach him before._

 _However, he didn't answer his question just yet. He allowed for silence to settle between them as they both stared down the hill towards the track, where a smaller figure ran his laps. His wild ebony hair made it obvious who the running boy was. And for a moment, after two or three laps, he looked up to catch a glimpse of the two. His emerald eyes still gleamed, even from his distance._

 _And they lingered. Not on Masaharu, but on Hitoshi._

 _In response Hitoshi smiled patiently, waving gently to him from above. The boy promptly scowled, and he quickly turned his head away. Not in a wry manner, but almost embarrassed._

 _"So... do you hate him?" repeated Masaharu._

 _There was a pause in Hitoshi's breaths. For a moment, he really did wonder if he hated the boy. After all, he was troublesome and disliked him for no real reason. From the very beginning the boy has treated him with disrespect._

 _Then again... Hitoshi found it hard to hate anyone._

 _"No. I don't hate him." He murmured as he touched his flushed cheek, which was beginning to grow numb. Still, it stung against the brush of his fingertips. "He's brash and obstreperous, but he is still growing. I can see that he's different from the other 1st-years."_

 _Masaharu stayed silent to this answer. And for a long time, not a word was exchanged between them._

 _Finally Masaharu turned on his heels. But before he left the manager alone with the running boy, he paused and chuckled, "You're a strange one, Matsumoto Hitoshi. And this is coming from the master trickster himself."_

* * *

"Do I hate him?"

From the puzzled look on Hitoshi's face, Masaharu could tell he'd forgotten what they'd even been saying on that very day. With a deep sigh Masaharu shook his head and begun to stride towards Yagyuu. He waved nonchalantly to the bemused teenager, giving him a wordless goodbye.

So Hitoshi was left to himself again. And it really puzzled him, how this day seemed to perfectly mirror the events of _that_ day. All that was missing now was...

Hitoshi softly touched his cheek.

"... Gen'ichirou is stronger than he looks, and he's looks pretty strong already."

"Is that so?" inquired a new voice.

If Hitoshi could, he'd have jumped all the way to space.

It seemed that out of _nowhere,_ Gen'ichirou Sanada somehow magically manifested himself next to Hitoshi. How was it that all the regulars could casually walk up to him without making any sound whatsoever?! Were they man or were they beasts?!

Hitoshi was clutching his chest so hard he was practically clawing at his skin from through his shirt. With a floundered gulp, he stumbled like an oaf away from his vice-captain.

"E-Er... Sa-Sa-Sanada... wow... you scared me... you scared me pretty bad, just now..." he stammered, blinking rapidly. Gen'ichirou seemed indifferent. "Did I? I apologize, then."

The manager seemed to glare at Gen'ichirou's impenitent expression, and he appeared to open his mouth for a retort, however only huffed and looked away. With puffed cheeks he bleated, "You don't sound so sorry to me."

The phlegmatic vice-captain shrugged. With the amount of times he's frightened the manager (and others) with only his presence, it was already arduous to even _try_ to feel guilty. But he made certain not to tell the manager this, and instead picked up his water bottle from below the bench. After all, that's what he came over there for anyways. He just happened to overhear Hitoshi muttering to himself.

With a heavy sigh, Hitoshi rubbed the back of his neck and jerked his head side to side, cracking the joints there. As he repeated the same to his other joints, he begun to saunter off the court. However, not before turning his head back and hollering at his vice-captain, "I'm heading to the office and starting on club reports!"

Gen'ichirou, who was still drinking from his water bottle, replied with an unconcerned wave of his hand.

Hitoshi shrugged at his gesture and quickly jogged the rest of the way to the locker room. Once inside he headed to his locker and changed into his school uniform, then manifesting his copy of the office key from a pocket inside his blazer.

Once he unlocked the door he entered the room and plopped his navy school bag onto the large wooden desk. It took a few minutes for him to rummage through the contents of his bag before he finally found what he'd been searching for; a faded green notebook.

To be specific, it was his club notebook.

Inside were countless entries summarizing morning and evening practice. From the very first day he'd become manager of the tennis club to yesterday's shenanigans. Though it may have sounded silly, the notebook was Hitoshi's pride, because not a single day of practice was missing from his records. That was (in his opinion at least) pretty amazing in itself.

As he mindlessly bounced from page to page, skimming over past items, one particular sentence on one particular page caught his eye. He immediately stopped his unconscious page flips and rushed back a few entries to his record of interest. It was dated on February 23rd, last year. The day that Hitoshi couldn't seem to quit recalling.

On the last line, written in—well, _not_ bold, but it might as well have been—was:

 _"Today, for the first time, I was slapped by vice-captain Gen'ichirou Sanada."_

* * *

 _Never before in his whole entire life had Hitoshi Matsumoto ever felt so conspicuous._

 _It seemed like every single member of the tennis club was watching him, their eyes practically spotlights impaling his entire body. It was almost unbearable, this attention. Then again, Akaya probably had it worse._

 _As soon as Renji finished bandaging his sprained ankle, Hitoshi stood up from the bench. Like a bolt of lightning had just shot through his entire leg and proceeded to set his ankle on fire, Hitoshi almost stumbled back onto the bench from the savage pain. Nonetheless, he bumbled forward against Renji's protests. He wanted to conciliate the vice-captain, and he would do so even if walking the distance would be quite literally a pain._

 _"WHAT IN THE NAME OF GODS WERE YOU THINKING, AKAYA?! DID YOU NOT STOP TO THINK OF THE POSSIBLE CONSEQUENCES YOUR CHILDISH PRANKS COULD CAUSE?!"_

 _Gen'ichirou's thunderous voice echoed throughout the silent court. Even the birds seemed to grow silent at the sound of his anger. Everyone was aware of his occasional scoldings and lectures, but the tone he used now, it was different. It was a different kind of rage; it was vehement and practically oozed with displeasure._

 _It was actually a bit terrifying._

 _"Vi-Vice-captain, I—" stuttered Akaya, the boy subjected to his wrath. But their vice-captain wouldn't have it. He raised a hand and silenced the boy, his once-hazel eyes darkened like the night and comparable to onyx._

 _"Akaya. I won't have any excuses. For the past week you have been misbehaving more and more, and now it has resulted in the injury of a teammate. You've yet to even apologize," he murmured in tone so serene, it was downright spine-chilling. Their vice-captain now sounded remorseless and strange, like someone had possessed his consciousness. In fact, someone like... like their captain, Seiichi Yukimura._

 _"So now, I think you realize that this punishment is only fitting, and I hope you learn from this mistake." the black-haired teen continued as he drew his hand back. Akaya froze in place, shivering for a moment, before squeezing his eyes shut._

 _The powerful sound of skin against skin resounded across the entire court. Nearly every boy standing on that very court flinched at the intensity of that slap, all of them praying to their god that they would never have to be the one standing before Gen'ichirou._

 _But... it's not Akaya who's wincing._

 _It's their manager._

 _Their manager has practically shoved Akaya behind him, arms spread backward and around the 1st-year, like a shield. His legs are trembling uncontrollably from the weight he is putting on his sprained ankle, added with the power from Gen'ichirou's slap._

 _And Gen'ichirou, like the rest of his teammates, was shocked. Amusingly enough, for a good half of the moment he was mainly stunned by Hitoshi's impressive speed. That was until he gradually came to the realization that the manager had jumped in to screen Akaya._

 _This unpresuming boy, who was always off in his own desolate world... he was brave enough to interfere._

 _The silence on the court extended even further as those standing around watched in anticipation, waiting for this strange turn of events to reach it's conclusion. It was a general consensus among the boys that this morning was by far the most interesting morning they'd ever had, and it would probably be the only interesting morning they'll ever have._

 _The silence seemed to continue for eons until finally, Hitoshi lifted his head. Not a trace of anger, or even disgust for that matter, was imprinted on his face. He wasn't even giving Gen'ichirou a mien of disapproval. No, instead, he appeared just as tranquil as Gen'ichirou had been._

 _His gleaming ocean eyes were calm, in contrast to his quivering body. Then strangely enough, to everyone's incredulity, he begun to smile patiently at the vice-captain. It was like he didn't even notice he'd just been slapped._

 _"... Please don't punish him in that way for something so minor." the manager cooed softly as he allowed for his arms to fall back to his sides, "I'm the one who was injured, so allow me to decide his punishment."_

 _He continued to keep steady eye-contact with Gen'ichirou, even if his vice-captain's challenging gaze was strong enough to match even Seiichi's. But if Hitoshi was capable of opposing to their absent captain then why should he behave any different towards Gen'ichirou? In the end, they were just boys and ranks were just labels._

 _It wasn't until Gen'ichirou turned away that Hitoshi finally lowered his tense shoulders._

 _"Do what you want, then. It doesn't concern me anymore." the vice-captain murmured as he faced the cluster of spectating boys. "EVERYONE GET BACK TO PRACTICE!"_

 _But as soon as everyone returned to their previous activities, Gen'ichirou faced Hitoshi once more._

 _"I acknowledge your strength, Matsumoto. But it will do you well not to interfere with my way of doing things around here."_

* * *

"MATSUMOTO!"

Hitoshi jumped at the sudden noise, suddenly ripped away from his thoughts. He spun the swivel chair around towards the sound, almost having a heart attack when he was greeted with the sight of Gen'ichirou standing in front of him in an erect posture. The only thing separating them was the large wooden desk.

The vice-captain's arms were folded tightly across his chest and his stocky eyebrows were furrowed together, somehow intensifying his vexation.

"E-Er... yes, Sanada?" stuttered Hitoshi nervously. Oh man. When Gen'ichirou looked like _that..._

"Have you been dozing off in lala land? You wrote almost _nothing_ on there!" he chastised, pointing to the blank page in the notebook, "I didn't allow for you to leave the courts so you could sit and daydream!"

Hitoshi clapped his hands together and squeezed his eyes shut, "Sorry, sorry! I really was going to start on the entry, but I got distracted! I know this isn't an excuse but I-I really didn't mean to get caught up in my head!"

An annoyed sigh was his only response, before the vice-captain shut the book and slid it towards the manager. "I'll let this go for now, but next time, I expect at least a sentence." he huffed, before gesturing his head towards the door, "Now hurry and gather your things. I don't want you to be late for class."

"Yes, yes," smiled Hitoshi, as he slipped the notebook into his bag and hefted it onto his shoulder. Before leaving the office he quickly dipped his head in farewell to the dour teen, earning a nod back.

"Don't forget, after school today you have to report to Yukimura!" the vice-captain called out, just as Hitoshi was almost out the door. He quickly waved a hand to sign that he would, then rushed out the door.

Unsurprisingly, he found himself excited for evening practice.

* * *

「5:45 p.m.」

* * *

The school day had gone by just as usual.

He'd sat in his seat near the window, and daydreamed for most the lessons. Then he did his work with the assistance of helpful classmates (mainly girls), since he wouldn't understand whatever subject they were learning. Of course, he was aware that if maybe for once, if he actually payed attention, then he wouldn't need to rely on his classmates.

Then again, he was never a down-to-earth kid.

Of course when lunchtime came, he'd either eat lunch with Gen'ichirou and Renji or by himself in the rooftop garden. Most of the times he ate on the rooftop in solitude, letting his head drift to wherever it pleased. Then when lunch was finished, he would return to class and the cycle would continue.

Evening practice, though it was pleasing as always, was fairly calm in comparison to morning's events. Not a single ball wandered outside the court and Hitoshi even participated in practice matches. Even if he was unfairly pit against the regulars (meaning every single game was a miserable loss), it was still quite the experience. He always knew they were strong, but every single time he witnessed their abilities he was always left feeling awestruck. Boys at his age aren't supposed to be able to turn their eyes red at will, or shoot laser beams and whatnot. Then there they go, breaking the laws of nature.

When he really thought about it, the regulars were simply terrifying.

Of course, after these practice matches Hitoshi was too tuckered out to do anything else. With Gen'ichirou's permission he receded into the office and started finishing his daily entry. It usually took him until the end of practice, which meant he would be the last one out of the locker rooms. He'd count the balls and check if they were all still intact, then he'd go back and do the same with the school racquets. Once the rest of his mini-chores were finished, usually miscellaneous things such as sweeping or dusting, he'd finally leave and lock up.

After the missing balls incident, he _never_ forgot to lock up.

As of now, he was journeying to Kanai General Hospital, to give his weekly report to his captain, Seiichi Yukimura.

Oddly, though, he found himself rather animated for the visit today. He was generally indifferent about it, and never really looked forward to walking the protracted distance. However, that didn't necessarily mean that he _disliked_ visiting Seiichi. He liked the boy, he really did, and whenever he finally reached the hospital the two would entertain each other with vague conversations about the tennis club or life.

Seiiichi never really made much conversation, though. He would laugh, interject a comment, laugh, say something cryptic, then laugh again. Most of the times Hitoshi could say just about anything, and all Seiichi would do was smile and nod, as though he'd been listening to Hitoshi's rambles this entire time.

Hitoshi wasn't stupid, of course. He could tell from the distant look in those brown eyes that his captain's mind was elsewhere. And lately... lately, his captain's mind _always_ seemed to be elsewhere.

Still, deep down in his gut, Hitoshi knew that his company _must_ have brought some form of reassurance to the bluenet. Even if Hitoshi would have to prattle aimlessly to no one, he did it because Seiichi seemed to find some form of comfort in the sound of another person. Whatever the reason could be it wasn't any of Hitoshi's business, but if that was how his captain was then he would do whatever he could to please the boy.

It wasn't until a long train ride and lengthy walk later that Hitoshi reached the hospital.

As always, nothing changed. The vague odor of chemicals and medication lingered in the air, and the oppressive tension hanging heavy in the atmosphere sagged onto his shoulders. People bumbled around with impatient expressions, nurses chatted with co-workers, and doctors rushed from place to place. It was all so lively, but ironically, felt so _dead._

Even so... there was still another feeling here familiar to Hitoshi. Something akin to hope.

He sighed softly to himself as he headed towards the front desk, hanging onto that tiny bit of light so he wouldn't sink into the rest of the hospital's darkness.

* * *

「6:13 p.m.」

* * *

"Yukimura-kun, you have a visitor."

The nurse called out as soon as she swung the door open. Then she stepped aside, smiling at the beige blonde, "Visiting hours is almost over, so don't stay for too long, dear."

Hitoshi nodded politely before entering the room, shutting the door behind himself.

"Good evening, Matsumoto..." a dulcet voice greeted, "I haven't seen your face in ages."

The beige blonde chuckled pleasantly as he turned around to face the shadowed figure sitting upright on the bed, the corner of his lip quirked into a gawky grin.

The setting sun cast off a fiery orange hue, it's light seeping into the hospital room and giving it a strangely comforting appearance. In contrast to such a pretty sight the fetor of chemicals seemed strongest here, almost burning Hitoshi's nose. He could still endure it, however, as he approached the dark humanoid shape.

"... Same to you, captain Yukimura."


	5. Skies are Grey

Chapter 05: Skies are Grey

 _"Sometimes your light shines so bright that it blinds people from seeing who you really are."_

\- Shannon L. Alder

* * *

The skies were turning grey.

Not just the sky, but the world around him.

What once used to be beautifully innocent became dark and sensual, as the color to it faded into dramatic monochrome shades. Red, blue, yellow, orange, it didn't matter, because it would all tainted with bitter colors in due time.

But you know, it wasn't like Seiichi was thinking this way on purpose. Deep down inside, he truly wanted to be able to see the light in the world. He wanted to be able to look someone in the eye and smile a genuine smile (not like his usual plastic grins that everyone seemed to fall for). He desired to be just like before, when he was still playing tennis on large asphalt courts and laughing because he loved being able to rule as not a king, but a _god._

Then again... maybe in some cruel, ironic way, Seiichi _deserved_ this.

He was not happy playing tennis because it was fun, but because he savored the rush of adrenaline it gave him as he dashed endlessly across green asphalt, returning every single shot from his opponent seemingly without struggle. He loved seeing their previous smirks of arrogance shift into looks of horror as he took _everything_ away from them.

Yes, that victory you wanted? It was your sacrifice to see this deity's divine dexterity.

What a shame that this "deity" was reduced to nothing but a sad little sick boy now, though.

Words of praise and awe used to be said about him. Everyone knew his name, and knew to fear him. If they did not, then they would, soon enough. He proved every single one of them wrong with his capabilities, when they'd all thought a boy so frail as him couldn't _possibly_ win a single match.

Oh how they'd _all_ thought so _wrong._

King after king, castle after castle, everything turned to ashes at the touch of Seiichi's fingertips. His reign was long and terrifying—and though Seiichi did not take pleasure in inflicting fear onto others he felt satisfied in knowing that he could project his strength in such a way that he was no longer mistook for a dainty boy.

He was mistaken for a _god._

Correction, he'd _become_ a god.

Of course, he realizes it's a silly notion, and sometimes Seiichi even laughs to himself when he thinks of this... but he never denies it. If he was great enough to be compared to the celestial, then contradicting this idea would be an insult to him. And wouldn't insulting himself be just ridiculous?

He's "strong", right?

He's "courageous", isn't he?

This is what "determination" is, correct?

Everyday he's chanting to himself the same things; "I'm doing this for Rikkai, I'm doing this for tennis, I'm doing this for _me",_ because it's all that runs through his head as he forces himself through all those fucking examinations and medications. Doctor after doctor, diagnosis after diagnosis, pill after pill—if he has to cross through hell to sit on his throne then he'll do so with grace and dignity. Even if his wings are torn and his soles are scorched till they are black like ebony.

Because this boy—this _demigod,_ still has another kingdom to crush.

So while he stays in the hospital, working to regain his well-being, his team will be waiting on the courts for his inexorable return. Every morning and evening on a weekday, and all day on a weekend, they're training strenuously, so that every opponent is shown no mercy. And Seiichi does not want—but he _expects_ for them to prove that his absence means nothing to Rikkai. No matter the circumstances, Rikkai's only has one goal, and that is to obliterate each empire that _dares_ to challenge them. Seiichi's lack of presence will only serve as a light nuisance.

It's a cruel way of thinking, but how else would have Rikkai become the king of kings?

You don't gain control from love and "the power of friendship", you earn it from strength and respect. If you are confident enough to call yourself a king then you had better be able to prove it through the might of your men and the thew of your arms. Here in Rikkai they're all supposedly equal, but it's a general consensus that Seiichi is the highest of them all, and if that is the case then so be it. He's already proven that he can walk on his own two feet, and so has his teammates.

Their magnificent influence was a product of hard work and natural skill. They were _made_ for tennis and sharpened for Rikkai. Even if a few select members had started out impossibly dull.

It's amazing, the potentials that determination can create.

 _Especially_ in the case of one particular boy... that Hitoshi Matsumoto. The boy whose eyes mirror a glistening ocean one day, then a marvelous sky the next. It's almost similar to how some days he's placid and quiet with his pacific smiles, then chatty and cheerful the next.

Seiichi had to admit, he'd expected Hitoshi to drop out of the tennis club. Maybe not under a week or two, but the fact that he stayed for _five_ whole months was rather shocking. From what Seiichi had observed of him, Hitoshi possessed a complex character and was unpredictable. When he was expected to react one way, he'd react in another. When Seiichi was predicting that the boy would do one thing, he'd do the other. When his yielding nature anticipates only his demise in the tennis club, he stays for not only a month, but again, _five._

Hitoshi was, and Seiichi still believes so, absolutely infuriating.

With the way he always seemed to dodge the natural outcome and _always_ slipped under Seiichi's final grasp, it was as though the boy himself could see right through Seiichi. And annoyingly enough, this further intensified Seiichi's interest in the beige-blonde. Exactly _what_ was fueling this boy's resolve?

Why was it so strong?

And _why_ hasn't the boy fully heeded to Seiichi yet?

After all, after five months you'd think he'd _finally_ submit to his captain, yet he still manages to escape from the blue-haired boy's complete dominance.

It's aggravating but Seiichi tries not to be spiteful about it. In the very least Hitoshi is an efficient manager. His usual visits are strictly business and he wastes no time in informing Seiichi of club events. Afterwards, he'll make small talk before taking his leave without the need for Seiichi's dismissal.

Gen'ichirou also seems to have no complaints about him and Renji is entertained by the perspicacity of Hitoshi's nature. Whenever the whole team of regulars comes to make a rare visit, they have nothing but good things to say about their dearest manager.

 _"He's fine."_

 _"He's weird."_

 _"He's cool."_

... Well, okay, maybe not the most _gracious_ things, but they never say anything too horrible. Contrariwise, they're indifferent towards the beige-blonde. Not in the way that they're apathetic to him, but in the way that he's grown on them; he's become _one_ of them. Hitoshi is their manager like Seiichi is their captain.

For the most part, Seiichi feels the same way.

 _For the most part._

* * *

It's been nearly two weeks and still no sign of Hitoshi.

Seiichi looked up from the book in his hands, the book he'd been pretending to read for the past hour so that his nurse would be fooled and leave him be, and he gazed out the window. The sky was a soft oil painting of blue and purple, mixing with the strongest shades of red and orange; it was the sign of morning's wake.

Seiichi set the book down onto the bedside table and swung his legs around, dangling them off the bed. _'How strange,'_ he thought as he begun to ease himself onto his feet, _'He's usually here every day or so'._ He slipped on his shoes as he begun to shuffle towards the large glass, his only contact with the outside world.

The view was wonderful as always. A sleeping city being awoken by the rising sun, the gentle rays of light painting it to life and bringing about a new day. At times like these, Seiichi could finally breathe again—and that was all he ever really needed nowadays.

He wasn't aware of how long he'd been standing still like that, marveling at the beauty separated from him by glass, until the brighter shades of blue begun to spill onto the canvas. Daylight was settling itself into place, and Seiichi still had a call to make. He sighed and stepped away from the window, turning around and heading for the door.

* * *

There were certain times that Gen'ichirou's absurdly strict morning schedules absolutely _peeved_ Seiichi to the marrows of his bones, _especially_ during sleepovers, when that blasted alarm clock of his would go ringing mad like a banshee at the ungodly hour of four in the morning. What Gen'ichirou did during the time of the larks Seiichi knew not, but every time he woke to the sound of that stupid thing he was one step closer to murdering his best friend.

Then there were times that Seiichi was actually _thankful_ for his early morning rituals. Gen'ichirou was always the first person to arrive on the tennis courts, so he was usually the one in charge of making sure everything stayed intact overnight. If everything was good to go, then he'd take out the tennis balls and prepare the machines. By the time Seiichi would arrive there would be nothing left to do but discuss the day's training menu with his trusty vice-captain, and the data master, Renji, if he arrived extra early.

Of course, with the situation now times have changed and things were different, but Seiichi was more than 100% sure that Gen'ichirou still kept up with his morning schedule. When he arrived to the main lobby downstairs, he recounted his yen and confirmed that it was enough to use the phone. Once he paid the fee, he quickly dialed the vice-captain's number.

It hadn't even gotten to the third ring before the other line picked up.

 _"Hello?"_

"That was fast."

 _"What do you need, Yukimura? It's not typical of you to call so early in the morning."_

"Well, since I'm not in the mood for pointless chit-chat, I'll get straight to the question in mind." He sighed as his eyes shifted up towards a nearby wall clock. Gen'ichirou was always so straight-forward. "I haven't seen Matsumoto in almost two weeks. Where is he? What's he been doing?"

 _"Matsumoto? He's been coming to club every day and doing everything I assigned to him. Perhaps he's just busy with something else at the moment."_ There was a pause of breath before Gen'ichirou continued. _"Anyways, I wouldn't worry. Matsumoto isn't the type to skip his duties without a reasonable purpose, but I'll question him just in case. You should just worry about your condition, Yukimura."_

The captain snorted. "I already know that I'm fine, I don't need you telling me otherwise."

 _"Sei—"_

Seiichi had cut him off before he could even begin his usual lecture, setting the phone back into place and ending the call. For a moment he stood there, eyes fixed on the floor and his mind wandering about.

He hated to admit it, but Gen'ichirou was right. If Hitoshi was still attending practice, then he shouldn't be impatient. He should just wait for whatever his manager is doing afterschool to be done and over with. No need to be so upset over something silly.

Besides, why did it even matter to him so much? Before Hitoshi became the club manager, club activities was repetitive enough for Seiichi to have a vague idea of what went on every day during practice hours. Akaya would be eager and unable to control himself, thus triggering a mess of some sort, Bunta and Kuwahara would keep to themselves (with some collateral damage involved but nothing too intense), Hiroshi would babysit Masaharu (who would be attempting to set off a bad prank every second Hiroshi's eyes left him), Renji would be mostly cool (but slightly annoying towards Gen'ichirou), and Gen'ichirou would go around the court ordering laps from unsuspecting club members who were fooling around.

In short, this meant that Hitoshi's daily reports were pretty much redundant. There was actually no need for him to come by in the evening because Seiichi would already be able to predict everything that happened.

… But then again, Hitoshi's presence seemed to bring about an _interesting_ change to the tennis club. Seiichi couldn't really explain how, but in _some_ way, after Hitoshi's decision to become manager, things seemed to get somewhat—well, somewhat _brighter._ It was a strange and odd and confusing change and _especially_ one that only someone such as Hitoshi could somehow kindle. That peculiar deepness in his gleaming blue eyes, that undeterred kindness he always served to others, his unwavering patience, it was all so unfitting with the ruthless ways of the tennis club yet it still somehow forced itself in.

Like a boat swaying gently on crashing waves, Hitoshi was an unperturbed peasant among an army of demons. When their king fell, he came, bringing a small ray of light with him. It was barely noticeable, but still there—Seiichi could tell. Even if it wasn't enough to replace the sense of security only their captain could give them it was enough to ease the tension that his illness had precipitated. The tranquility of their new manager had abated the seriousness of the situation; his softness was like a child's Band-Aid—unable to heal but at least capable of appeasing the pain.

With just that much Hitoshi brought that strange change in the club, that bit of light that satisfied everyone and lightened the hell they created and endured. Perhaps it was because of this that Seiichi depended so heavily on Hitoshi. The knowledge of his presence bringing peace to his team secretly brought back just a bit of life to Seiichi's dulling world. With every report he'd read and every story the manager told, it was like his teammates were different people. They were doing the same things, yes, but seemed…

… Well, they seemed happier.

And that was enough for Seiichi.

Even if his views were still dark and harsh as before, he appreciated the things that Hitoshi had done for his team, unintentionally or not. _'That boy never realizes it, but he is truly something miraculous,'_ Seiichi thought to himself as he stepped away from the wall phone and turned to face the main corridor.

But as he began to make his way back to his room, another thought crossed his mind.

 _'So long as that magnanimity of his doesn't get in the way of our rule of thumbs, that is.'_

* * *

「6:13 p.m.」

* * *

When evening arrived, Seiichi was more than "a little" surprised at the sound of knocking at his door. Usually the nurses left him alone to do whatever he pleased since they were too exhausted to pester him. Additionally, visiting hours were close to an end, meaning most non-patients had already left home. Besides, Seiichi's parents worked busy schedules, so they definitely weren't making any late surprise visits.

"Sorry to bother you, Yukimura-kun, but you have a visitor." said his nurse from the other side of the door. Seiichi raised an eyebrow at this. Now _who_ could possibly be coming to see him so late? Unless… of course. Of course… it could only be…

Well, it could only be the only person he'd been expecting every afternoon.

There was the sound of the door creaking open, its soft whine alerting Seiichi of his arriving visitor.

 _Tmp. Tmp._

Footsteps—two of them; one pair sounded with the familiar rustle of rubber slippers—the kind that the nurses here wore—and the other was the steady clicking of leather loafers.

The kind that a school student would wear.

To be specific, the kind that a _Rikkai_ student would wear.

There was a pause in the steps now, and a hushed, "Visiting hours is almost over, so don't stay for too long, dear."

"Ah… okay. I'll be quick, then." Replied another hushed voice, definitely belonging to the student.

Just then, the slightly ajar door was pushed further open, and his visitor stepped inside, however quickly turned around and moved to shut the door.

 _Click._

Seiichi stared at the lean figure standing a few feet away from him, who lingered at the door, his back faced in his direction. But even from behind Seiichi could identify that mop of sandy blonde hair and that small frame. Of course, he also recognized that gentle tone of voice; that casual but patient manner of speech.

Well, well.

Wouldn't you take a look at that?

After nearly two weeks of absence, he finally decides to show up.

 _Hitoshi Matsumoto._

"Good evening, Matsumoto..." the captain greeted in his softest tone, a small smile spreading on his pale lips, "I haven't seen your face in ages."

Hitoshi paused for a moment, still facing the opposite direction from the blue-haired boy, before finally rotating his body in the slowest pace possible. Once those gleaming ocean eyes came into view that was when Seiichi knew it was most definitely his manager. And, like Seiichi, he was smiling. It was his usual grin; lopsided and awkward, almost as if it was forced.

"... Same to you, captain Yukimura." He chuckled as he approached closer, arms folded behind his back. After a moment, he pulled up a chair, but before he could sit down Seiichi quickly patted on a spot next to him in bed, gleaming brightly at the beige-blonde.

"Sit here."

"… Oh. Okay." Hitoshi hesitantly sat where Seiichi had gestured him to, his weight sinking into the mattress and inching him closer to the blue-haired boy a little more than he would have liked. "So uh… how've you been?"

"Oh, you know…" Seiichi began sarcastically, tilting his head, "Just the usual. Sick and dying. You?"

Hitoshi smiled awkwardly again. "Come on, it was only two weeks. You're acting like I was gone for an entire year, captain."

Seiichi sighed dramatically as he leaned against his pillows, staring out the window with a forlorn expression. "Well, you know, you're the only contact I have with the others… since they're all so _busy._ And it gets quite lonely around here—no one ever wants to keep me company," he said in a slow melancholic drawl as he played with the hem of his blanket.

Hitoshi simply replied with a blank stare.

"You don't actually need me here, do you?"

"Ah, you're fast at catching this sort of thing on, aren't you?" Seiichi smirked, tilting his head towards the beige-blonde and raising an eyebrow conceitedly. "I mean, you're not right, but you're not wrong either. But if you must know the truth, I suppose you really aren't needed here."

"I figured as much." Hitoshi sighed with a roll of his blue eyes (much to Seiichi's dismay). He then reached into his school bag, pulling out a faded green notebook. After flipping through the flimsy thing for a moment, he finally set it down on Seiichi's lap. "Here. Everything from the past two weeks and now. You happy?"

Seiichi picked up the journal and gazed at its discolored cover. With a soft sigh, he opened the book, dark brown eyes skimming down the messy kanji absentmindedly. "Yeah… thanks." He murmured quietly as his attention began drifting from the entries written down to his manager, who had begun kicking at the air out of boredom.

"Are you bored?"

"No."

"You seem bored."

"I'm just a bit tired. Practice today was busy. A lot of things happened." Hitoshi replied as he continued to swing his legs back and forth like swings swaying endlessly Seiichi perked an eyebrow in curiosity. "Like what? Do tell."

"Read about it."

"I'd rather hear the story from you." He replied brightly, immediately shutting the notebook and nonchalantly tossing it into Hitoshi's hands. The manager was more or less peeved at the discourteous treatment of his belonging.

"Hey! Watch it, this thing is old!" he chided, stroking the worn cover and eying the object for any sign of obvious damage.

"Sorry."

"Humph." Hitoshi huffed as he heaved his schoolbag from the floor and zipped it open. Once he found an open spot between his math and English notebook, he pushed the English notebook to the side and carefully squeezed the green journal in its place. "Anyways, what was I saying again? Oh yeah… practice."

Hitoshi quickly relayed to Seiichi of earlier events, making sure not to leave out any details (especially of the 1st-year whose swing was so strong the ball almost took Akaya's nose with it on its fast journey to space) in his elaborate story. All the while, Seiichi did as he always did. He smiled, laughed, and said something witty. It could have been a refreshing sight for Hitoshi, if not for the fact that his captain's jovial behavior seemed like it was bile being forced from the stomach to the throat to the mouth. Still, he bought it.

"Practice seems to be getting crazier and crazier…" Seiichi chuckled, resting his head into his hand. "It makes me so envious of you. But then again… if I were there, you'd all be _dead."_

Hitoshi's lips curved into a thin smile and a nervous laugh escaped from his throat. "Of course, captain… haha…" he muttered as the blue-haired boy begun chuckling creepily to himself. Once this humorous moment of his had subsided, Seiichi stared at the manager with an unidentifiable expression. It was like a mix of envy and disgust – but all the while, admiration and longing.

Though it didn't really matter to Hitoshi what it was, he just wanted Seiichi to _stop looking_ at him in that way.

"But… all jokes aside, I really am jealous of you, Matsumoto." Seiichi sighed, his brown eyes darkening as they narrowed. A wry smile came to his lips and he gazed out the window, watching the strong shades of gold and red and orange begin to become discolored with boring shades of white, grey, and _black._

A beautiful sunset made from dull colors.

"… How lucky of you, to be up and about, walking around and being lack daisy. It must be so much fun." He murmured, piercing Hitoshi with his gaze. "Am I wrong?"

"… N-No."

"So do you guys like fooling around when I'm not there? Is it because your captain is absent and your vice-captain is incompetent that you feel you have the right to fuck around like you're not Rikkai students?"

"No, that's—I-I mean…" Hitoshi's ocean eyes grew cloudy with embarrassment as they blinked rapidly, his hands wringing together like restless snakes. Seconds later beads of sweat were beginning to slide down his flushed face while he chewed the bottom of his lips; he looked like a shy girl about to confess. Honestly—he was so cute when he was flustered and uncomfortable like this. Seiichi grinned and reached towards the manager, pinching his cheek. "… I was just teasing you." He muttered quietly, not missing the flinch in Hitoshi's eyes.

He almost laughed again.

"You should go home now, Matsumoto. Don't want to break your agreement with the nurses." He suggested as he leaned back into his pillows and picked up his book from the bedside table. He'd just open it to his most recently read page when Hitoshi tugged at the blanket over his legs, drawing his attention back to him. "Hm? What is—oh… that's quite the glare."

Hitoshi's blue eyes couldn't get any clearer as he sat still on the bed, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, forming just the perfect frown.

"You shouldn't mess with me like that…" he whispered in a tone so soft it was almost inaudible. This boy was always so brave in the way he stood up to Seiichi like that, so why did he always sound so regretful?

Seiichi's dark brown eyes softened as he kept a patient gaze with Hitoshi's strong glare. In his world of monochrome colors, it was always those damn ocean eyes that shone and rebelled against Seiichi's rage. They were always so fucking _blue._

They were so blue Seiichi almost wanted to gouge them out.

"You're right…" he smiled, genuinely this time, "I'm sorry. I won't tease you like that again."

Hitoshi said nothing in reply as he stood up from the bed, picking up his schoolbag and walking towards the door. But before he exited, he paused in thought. His hand was around the door knob and he was mostly done talking to Seiichi, yet there was something he knew he hadn't said yet… at least, until it left his mouth involuntarily.

"I'll see you again, tomorrow, Yukimura."

Seiichi looked up from his book again, catching one last-second glance at the light-beige blonde. This time, without smiling, he replied, "I can't wait."

 _Click._

* * *

 **A/N - [READ IF YOU WANT TO]**

 **I'm sorry, this chapter kind of went all over the place. And hopefully the quote fits as well as I thought it did.**

 **I had a good idea of what would be happening in this chapter, then I took a break from writing and suddenly all of my plans went around the world? Why? I don't know.**

 **Well, thank you all for reading!**


	6. Recognition

Chapter 06: Recognition

 _"Rabbit's clever," said Pooh thoughtfully._  
 _"Yes," said Piglet, "Rabbit's clever."_  
 _"And he has Brain."_  
 _"Yes," said Piglet, "Rabbit has Brain."_  
 _There was a long silence._  
 _"I suppose," said Pooh, "that that's why he never understands anything."_

\- A.A. Milne, _Winnie-the-Pooh_

* * *

Hitoshi never really minded mornings, unlike the majority of teenagers around his age.

Of course he was always a lazy snail when it came to getting out of bed, but who _would_ want to leave the comfort of their warm bed and snuggly blankets? Still, he'd lug himself out of his bundle of blankets like a living zombie and put a stop to the ear-piercing screams of his alarm clock with a single slap (much to the dismay and relief to his lovely orange tabby cat).

As Hitoshi would stretch at impossible angles, he'd always lean over the bed and scratch the back of Cat's ears while mumbling incomprehensible things along the lines of "Lucky you" and "Good boy". Despite being asleep, Cat would purr back, as if to say, "Yes, yes, good morning".

Getting ready for school was always the hardest thing to do in the morning when he was still ridiculously sleepy, but he'd manage. Usually his mother would catch the mistakes in his uniform, informing him that his blazer was inside out or that his tie was crooked.

This morning was no different, of course. When Hitoshi finally arrived to the dining room, still vaguely woozy, his mother quickly rushed him to a chair next to his baby brother's high chair. She then handed him a bowl filled with a hideously yellowish-gray-colored substance before rushing back into the kitchen again. It smelled like a forbidden mixture of apples and _hell._

He took hold of the small pink spoon and begun eating the goo, cringing as the sweet savor of apples rapidly turned sour on the buds of his tongue. Still, he continued consuming the sludge, or as he thought partially humorously and partially seriously— _"gray matter"_ , assuming that his mother would be quite upset with him if he didn't finish his breakfast.

"Hitoshi! What are you doing?! Stop eating Satoshi's food and feed it to him! I'm almost done with the eggs, so be patient until then!" his mother cried out as she set a plate of thick, sizzling bacon slices down onto the table. The bacon's sharp aroma was so delicious Hitoshi almost didn't hear what his mother said. Fortunately, though, her voice had easily snapped him out of his stupor, and he smiled sheepishly up at her stern expression.

"S-Sorry… I was a bit tired… hehe…"

She huffed with a dramatic roll of her eyes before returning to the kitchen.

The beige-blonde then turned his head and smiled ruefully again at his baby brother, Satoshi.

Satoshi was eleven months old and probably the cutest baby in the world, with his chubby rosy cheeks and big blue eyes. He stared back at Hitoshi with those same blue eyes and babbled something incomprehensible, before letting out a small cry and kicking his tiny feet impatiently into the air. Hitoshi sighed and ran his fingers through the soft blonde strands of Satoshi's hair, gently cooing, "I'm sorry, big-brother is sorry. He'll feed you right now, okay?"

He took a spoonful of the "gray matter" and dipped it towards Satoshi's mouth, waiting patiently for Satoshi to finish eating before reaching for another spoonful again.

At once Satoshi sat still in his chair, the little high-pitched whines coming from his mouth fading into quiet baby gargles as he munched on and swallowed the "gray matter". All the while he stared at Hitoshi with wide blue eyes that mirrored Hitoshi's own, unblinking and blank in that creepy manner all babies had when they saw something that interested them.

A few minutes later his mother came rushing back into the dining room, setting down a plate of freshly scrambled eggs and taking the bowl of "gray matter" from Hitoshi. Leaning down, she pecked his cheek and brushed off the dust on his shoulders. "Hurry up and eat your breakfast Hitoshi, or you'll be late for practice."

Hitoshi nodded, and he begun to help himself to the eggs and bacon. He ate in a quiet rush as he checked the time, noting that it was only a few more minutes before the morning train came. Funny how time seemed to rush during the moments Hitoshi simply wanted to relax.

He swallowed the rest of his eggs (an impossible task for the average junior high student—which was exactly why Hitoshi nearly died of suffocation only minutes ago) and gathered his things. He kissed his mother and Satoshi on the cheeks as he said a quick goodbye, dashing out of the house soon after.

He picked up his bike from against the fence and opened the gate, carefully rolling his bike out before picking up his weight and settling himself down onto the hard seat of his bike. Despite the constant warnings from his parents, he left his helmet behind (a tinge of guilt making him hesitate) and he took off down the road on his usual path to school.

* * *

As per usual, Hitoshi wasn't the first person in the club.

Or the second.

Not even the _third._

He was… probably the sixth or eighth person. Tenth sounded more accurate, but Hitoshi didn't want to belittle himself so early in the morning. He always knew that as manager, it was his duty to arrive just as early as the vice-captain (perhaps even _before_ the tennis-obsessed man—teenager?), but Hitoshi was always tedious in everything he was responsible for, which meant that arriving to practice early was only just a farfetched dream.

With a sigh, he tore his eyes away from the early birds frolicking about on the court and opened the door to the clubroom, willing himself to continue on his morning routine in typical character. As soon as he stepped foot into the club room he paused at the entryway and searched among the familiar faces of his teammates.

Who, exactly, was he looking for? Well, the target in mind was an abnormally colossal teenaged boy, with perfectly cut chestnut-brown hair and hazel eyes forever closed to the outside world. In other words, fellow 3rd-year Renji Yanagi. Hitoshi frequently required the wiser boy check over the math he'd done in the club's accurate book, since he himself was not exactly the most intelligent of mathematicians. Renji never complained (externally at least) and Gen'ichirou was actually the one to first suggest that Hitoshi always check in with the brunet. It seemed that from the first day Hitoshi joined the club as manager, the vice-captain could sense that some assistance was going to be entailed.

Still, even as Hitoshi meandered further into the room, he could not catch sight of Renji. He wasn't dressing into uniform with the other boys, nor was he in the office—which meant that he was most likely already dressed in and already on the courts. Hitoshi sighed for the hundredth time that morning as he exited the office and wandered towards a group of 1st-years who were in the middle of changing their shirts.

The boys noticed him coming and all three smiled brightly at their approaching manager. "Cheers, Matsumoto-senpai!" they called as they slipped into their (horrendous—yes, even Hitoshi thought that the Rikkai uniforms were simply the ugliest thing in the world, and he deeply pitied himself and his teammates for having to wear such atrocities) mustard shirts. With a small smile he returned their greeting before asking, "Have you three seen Yanagi?"

"Yanagi-senpai?" one of them echoed, bringing a finger to their chin in thought. He stood like that for a quick minute, before grinning brightly again, "Oh yes, he's already on the courts!"

Hitoshi groaned inwardly as he thanked the boy. He then returned back into the office, setting the data books and references he'd worked on the past month onto the table, along with the club accounting book. He'd have to have Renji remind him to give him the accounting book, or else he'd end up disremembering it.

After setting the things into a neat pile he exited the office and made sure to lock it behind himself. By now there were more club members piling into the locker rooms, each one in their own little clique accompanied with their own personal conversations. Of course, they all greeted their manager as he passed by them, but Hitoshi never really bothered to actually join in any side conversations.

He stripped from his uniform and slowly changed into his mustard-colored jersey. Once he'd zipped his jacket to just under his bosom, he was greeted by a few more club members that were beginning to arrive. Hitoshi smiled warmly at them as well, returning their casual salutations with his own. He adored his juniors, even when a select few were more rowdy than he'd like them to be.

Once he slipped outside, he jogged onto the courts, continuing his search for Renji. As he'd expected, the boy was off somewhere near the end of the courts, around Gen'ichirou's general area. Curse Renji for making him run this much distance.

Still, he sucked up the complaints rapidly piling up, and dashed towards the brunet.

"Yanagi! Hey, Yanagi!" he called out as he neared the boy, waving his arm for extra attention. Renji did in fact notice him; however he mistook the manager's call for attention as a sign of acknowledgement, so in response he smiled politely at the breathless beige-blonde and dipped his head in acknowledgement as well. But when his face suddenly morphed into a disapproving frown, Renji began to think otherwise.

"Good morning, Matsumoto."

"Mornin', anyways, I need you to remind me about something after club—"

"—this 'something' is the accounting books, I presume?"

"I was getting there!" the boy snapped, his sudden hostility surprising Renji to the point of silence. It was rare for the beige-blonde to bark, and when he did it was always an oddly fascinating occurrence—so much so talking back was impossible. "Anyways, yes, I need you to remind about the accounting books. I need you to check over my math, as usual."

Renji nodded and pat Hitoshi's shoulder reassuringly. "I can do that. But you seem rather agitated today; you should take it easy."

 _'And who's fault is that, I wonder?'_ thought Hitoshi bitterly as he stared at the brunet's concerned gaze. It was only a moment later, however, that waves of guilt washed over him, and he became conscious of the apparent fact that it was really his own fault for never arriving early enough to catch Yanagi before he went onto the courts. Tiredly, he apologized, "I'm sorry, I was just a bit annoyed that I had to chase you down here."

Renji's lips spread into a thin smile in response, and in his hands he twirled his tennis racquet. "It's fine, Matsumoto, I barely noticed. Anyways, Gen'ichirou informed me about your trip to the hospital yesterday. How did it go? Is Seiichi doing well?"

Hitoshi's face contorted into a sour expression at the memory of yesterday's events. The visit, while it wasn't so terrifying it'd cause trauma, was still heavy with tension and suspense. It seemed that at any moment, Seiichi would suddenly snap. Hitoshi didn't want to admit it, but with each evening visit Seiichi seemed to be drifting further and further—as though he were gradually being pulled in by his own self-hatred and… much to his own incredulity, jealousy.

"With a face like that, I'd assume that Seiichi attempted to strangle you."

Renji's comment snapped Hitoshi out of his thoughts, and instead of his usual wry smile and attempt to laugh it off, he instead frowned and pursed his lips into a tight line. "… It's kind of obvious that he dislikes me, huh?"

"Hm?"

"Captain Yukimura. He… always seems to hold some sort of disdain for me. I mean, I suppose he likes me in _some_ way, since he practically _demands_ me to come visit him every day after school, but sometimes when I'm there… the look in his eyes…" an icy shiver ran down Hitoshi's spine as he recalled the darkness that he saw yesterday, the hatred that shone so bright in the inky brown pigment of Seiichi's eyes, "It was so… spiteful."

Renji fell silent at the manager's words, running them over and over in his head as he worked to find a suitable reply. Renji didn't want to admit it either, but Seiichi had been changing recently. His genuine smiles became less and less, and his strength was becoming pale like his graying skin. The only thing that kept Seiichi from the verge of despair was his desire to play tennis again.

No.

That wasn't right.

It was his desire for _glory_ that kept him on his feet for so long.

Seiichi didn't enjoy tennis, but it gave him honor, and sated the ever-growing hunger of his pride. The satisfaction of victory and perfection, the feeling of power running through his veins, and the despair of his opponents after he crushed him under his soles…

Those were all the things that drove Seiichi's resolve to overcome his illness.

Yet sometimes… Renji admitted, sometimes, Seiichi's strength seemed to flicker.

"I don't believe he dislikes you, Matsumoto." Renji finally murmured, pointing his gaze towards the beige-blonde as he continued, "Seiichi must be going through a lot. And while I won't say that he is jealous… I believe that he is certainly envious of something you have that he doesn't. Or at least, that he doesn't _anymore."_

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hitoshi retorted as he stared at the brunet, an apt amount of disbelief in his blue eyes. Renji shrugged and gave the manager a mysterious smile. "How would I know?"

"Of all the times you choose to be obscure…" Hitoshi muttered as he pouted. But as quick as he frowned he sighed and turned around, moving away from the taller boy while saying, "Oh well. Thanks for listening to me, Yanagi, I really appreciated it."

Renji didn't reply, but Hitoshi could tell that the brunet was still smiling.

* * *

「10:47 a.m.」

* * *

By the time it'd reached third period, the lack of sleep he had last night, doubled with the rigorous training during morning practice, finally caught up to Hitoshi. He could barely focus, much less keep his eyelids (which seemed to grow heavier and heavier with each passing minute) open. His head bobbed back and forth as he nodded off, and every time he could feel himself passing out he would think of his vice-captain Gen'ichirou.

 _'If Sanada finds out that you slept during third period, you'll get the Sanada Talk.'_

 _'Sanada wouldn't approve of this.'_

 _'If you sleep, Sanada will surely slap you until even the thought of sleep terrifies you.'_

 _'SANADA IS GONNA FIND OUT YOU DOZED OFF IN CLASS WITH THAT FREAKY SIXTH SENSE OF HIS.'_

Regardless, against his better judgement, he inevitably laid his head onto the hard wood surface of his desk and closed his dreary eyes. He was only going to sleep for a few minutes. Maybe five or six at the most, then he would wake up and continue his work. So with a content sigh, Hitoshi succumbed to his weak posture and drifted into a worriless slumber.

* * *

 _Matsumoto._

 _Oi, Matsumoto._

 _MATSUMOTO!_

With a violent start, Hitoshi jerked awake and immediately sat up in an impossibly erect posture. For a moment he panicked that he'd been caught sleeping, but as he came to he promptly arrived at the chilling realization that the classroom was completely _empty,_ in spite of the time of day. However, it seemed there was one other person…

… standing _right before_ him.

Gen'ichirou Sanada stood tall and ominously, the black cap on his head strengthening the shadow that was painted over his lifted head; his brown eyes, ever so sharp, were narrowed upon Hitoshi in a manner that showed his disgust with him and further intensified by his thick furrowed eyebrows. Like an emperor, he showed no mercy in expressing his disappointment with his teammate.

"It's about time you woke up." he grumbled as he lifted his hands from his hips and crossed them over his broad chest. For some strange reason, he still wore his tennis jersey.

"Vi-Vice-captain Sanada!" squeaked Hitoshi as his body twitched into a position so straight even heterosexuals were put to shame, "I-I… I…"

Gen'ichirou raised an eyebrow. "You what?"

"I… uh…"

"What?"

"I'm sorry! I was just so tired from this morning's practice, I didn't mean to—"

 _"NO EXCUSES!"_ the vice-captain roared as he slammed a hand down on the surface of Hitoshi's desk (and in some strange form of miracle the desk did not split and bend to Gen'ichirou's will), terrifying the poor manager into silence as the anger flaring in his brown eyes was inflamed by annoyance, "EXCUSES ARE FOR _SLACKERS!"_

"EEK!"

"NO _'EEK-ING'_ EITHER! ARE YOU MAN OR ARE YOU MOUSE?!"

"M-MAN!"

 _"THEN ACT LIKE IT!"_ hollered the vice-captain tumultuously, bitterly accenting the entire phrase to further nail down his fury onto the slacking manager who _dared_ to exempt himself from Gen'ichirou's ultimate wrath.

"I-I'M SORRY!"

"IF YOU'RE SORRY YOU'LL RUN OUT THERE RIGHT NOW AND GIVE ME 1000 LAPS!"

"Wh-What?!"

"You heard me…" he murmured, his voice reaching a dangerously low pitch, "1000 laps. Right now."

Hitoshi could've sworn he felt his heart drop into his stomach and begin to dissolve under the unforgiving acid. But nothing on Gen'ichirou's face proved that he was lying—he wanted to see Hitoshi running laps, and he could just tell that the longer he took to get to the track more and more laps were being piled onto his cruel punishment.

Slapping a hand over his face and feeling his life slip away from him in that very moment, Hitoshi let out a choked cry of anguish.

* * *

 _"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

Suddenly, Hitoshi could feel his entire body jerk into consciousness as his eyes ripped open to a classroom full of staring students and a flabbergasted teacher. The time of day was still bright and sunny; it must have been only a few minutes since Hitoshi fell asleep. And as he sat still in his chair, sweat dripping from his face and the panic still left over from his nightmare visible on his face, he could feel a whole new form of humiliation trickle over his body.

"A-Ah… I mean… ah…" he could barely utter a clear sentence as the faces of his classmates begun to morph into amused grins and pitiful expressions, and soon Hitoshi could feel his entire face heat up with the fire of a thousand suns and flush into a shade of red so ugly it didn't even have a name, "I… I just… you know…"

"I assume your dream was pleasant enough for you to interrupt class, Matsumoto-kun?" inquired his teacher, a dark glint shining bright in his eyes as he stared at the flustered boy. Hitoshi smiled awkwardly and scratched at his head as he mumbled, "Uh… y-yeah…?"

"Mm-hm. Why don't you just get the buckets and stand out in the hall? If you can sleep during class then surely you can sleep while standing." His teacher said as he gestured towards the sliding doors with a serene smile, looking not at all perturbed by Hitoshi's outburst anymore.

Hitoshi dipped his head and mumbled an apology as he stumbled towards the back of the room, picking up two empty pails and avoiding eye contact with his snickering classmates. This wasn't his first time being sent out into the hall, but it was always an embarrassing thing to experience.

As soon as he filled the buckets to the brim with water, he rooted himself onto a spot between both classroom doors and held up his outstretched arms. Already his arms ached at the density of the buckets, but it wasn't enough to tire him. It seemed that he'd grown stronger since his first arrival to the tennis club as their manager.

He lifted his head and stared out the large windows, focusing on the expansive stretch of blue and momentarily reminded of the ocean. As he stared so calmly into the lovely azure sea above, a weak smile spread across his lips.

"Ah…" he sighed, "It seems that not even in my dreams I can escape from the vice-captain's discipline."

* * *

「12:30 p.m.」

* * *

The lunch bell rang throughout the grounds like a sign from heaven, echoing from hall to hall and calling for a momentary break from the hell that was school.

Teachers immediately dismissed themselves with warnings for students to behave, and students disregarded those warnings with intent to run throughout school grounds with what little time they had left to be free of work and studies. Hitoshi was not one of those students, however.

While the beige-blonde wasn't the smartest kid in the class, nor did he always turn in his homework or answer every question right (not that he even liked being called on to begin with), he still relished being in school for the sake of learning something new. He didn't have a favorite subject or a teacher that he favored above all the others, but one of the more enjoyable subjects he had was literature. The stories were always interesting, and Hitoshi was actually fond of character evaluations, unlike the majority of his classmates. But perhaps that was because Hitoshi always had a knack for that sort of thing.

Today was a bit of a different case, however.

Hitoshi had been exhausted since third period, and he longed for a short nap. After the incident that occurred about two hours prior, Hitoshi dared not to fall asleep in class again, so lunch was really his only opportunity to get some decent shut-eye.

So like his other classmates, he stood up from his desk and grabbed his bento. While the others were probably going to eat in other classrooms or the cafeteria, Hitoshi actually had a different location that he favored going to. While in most schools this place was off-limits to students, in Rikkai it was welcome to all because of the grand garden that'd been started there.

Hitoshi left the classroom, wrapped bento in hand, and begun making his way to that particular area. While he'd initially stepped into a crowd of bustling students and teachers, the further he pushed through the horde the less people he encountered. Eventually, as he roamed the halls, it'd become apparent he was the only person left. Still, he continued on his path unbothered.

Eventually he reached a set of stairs that could only lead up to his most favorite spot in Rikkai.

 _The rooftop._

He bounded up the stairs and practically ripped the door open through sheer eagerness, instantly bathing in sweet sunlight as the world from the rooftop welcomed him warmly. He could already smell the sugary nectar of flowers as the scent wafted across his nostrils, and he stepped outside, the calm surrounding around him bringing a sense of ease. He closed the door behind himself and begun to stroll down the dirt path that'd been created, admiring the scenery before him.

There were numerous bushes lined up against the dirt paths, and behind those bushes would be small trees and tall flowers. The bright colors further intensified by the unwavering radiance of the sun somewhat blinded the light beige-blonde, yes, but it was evenly balanced out by the shade of the trees. In a way, the rooftop garden reminded Hitoshi of the illustrations one would usually find in a western book of fairytales. Hitoshi always admired those kinds of things, so perhaps that was why he regarded the rooftop garden so highly.

With all the sorts of flowers and shrubs, Hitoshi also found that he was slightly envious of whoever owned this garden. They must've worked hard to achieve such beauty—and without all these plants, that goal would've never been discovered. While Hitoshi wasn't as much of an avid gardener as he was when he was younger, he still loved gardening with a passion.

He ventured down the long paths, turning with every direction until he was positive he'd looked at every plant at least once. Only then did he wander towards the gazebo settled directly in the middle of the entire rooftop garden. He made himself comfortable on the bench and unwrapped his bento, at the same time guessing all the possible combinations of goods his mother arranged for him.

As soon as he opened his bento his eyes flicked up, meeting with a strange bush; it was decorated with familiar flowers stained dark shades of blue and violet, the odd shapes of those flower's petals bringing a name to Hitoshi's head.

 _'Hydrangea'._

Hitoshi remembered, back when he still added to his book of flowers, he'd dedicated two entire pages to the hydrangea. They were shrubs that bloomed from the start of spring towards the end of autumn, though in some cases they still bloom throughout the long, humid days of summer. Their flowers grew in clustered corymbs, in usually a pure shade of white. But colors such as pink and blue were much more common in East Asia.

Trivially, in hanakotoba, the hydrangea represented narcissism.

It seemed anomalous that the plant was still in bloom this far into summer, but Hitoshi never really thought too hard about it. Perhaps the gardener was just tedious and managed his or her time well. Or, the soil they used was just that damn good.

Hitoshi returned his attention to the box seated patiently on his lap. He picked up his cheap wooden chopsticks (the kind that could probably be found at some vintage corner store) and momentarily debated on whether or not he wanted to eat the sausage octopus or the tamagoyaki. Both were exceptionally delicious, but it seemed that his taste buds couldn't decide which flavor was to be savored.

However, before he could settle on either one a familiar whine, akin to door hinges squeaking, stole his attention. Hitoshi lifted his head in both curiosity and dread as the realization that his privacy was being encroached upon injected discomfort into him.

Emerging from the doorway was not a stranger, fortunately, but instead someone he knew very well.

Masaharu Niou entered the rooftop, seemingly unaware that Hitoshi was also residing there. It wasn't until he was a few feet away from the gazebo that he looked up from his feet and met with Hitoshi's placid expression. Initially, he was reasonably surprised, since no one ever came onto the rooftop; he honestly expected to be the only one. Then again, with someone as introverted as Hitoshi, it wasn't exactly unusual.

Masaharu greeted his manager with a wide grin, the whites of his teeth gleaming under the sun's brilliant radiance. In return, Hitoshi nodded his head, his own lips breaking into a miniscule smile.

The white-haired boy joined the beige-blonde under the gazebo, seating himself on the bench across from Hitoshi's. Just as he made himself comfortable, Hitoshi asked, "What brings you here, Niou? I figured you be getting lunch with Yagyuu-kun."

"I wasn't feeling too hungry today." Replied Masaharu, who was rested on the bench with his arms comfortably folded and his legs crossed. He was still grinning at the beige-blonde, somewhat mischievously, as he added, "What about you?"

"I'm eating lunch, obviously." Hitoshi snorted, "And I wanted to look at the flowers."

"Hm…" Masaharu tilted his head curiously as he shifted his pose, now resting his head on one propped arm and lifting one leg into a bent position. For the most part, he appeared comfortable. "I didn't know you were into gardening."

"I'm not much of a gardener anymore, with my manager duties and all, but I still enjoy indulging into my old passions." Replied Hitoshi as he stared at the tamagoyaki he'd picked up with his chopsticks, admiring the strong golden shades and brown crusts; the salty aroma and the softness of the insides before _stuffing the entire thing_ into his mouth. "Y'sholf rweef geh ioo ie."

"Excuse me?"

Hitoshi promptly swallowed down the large bits of omelet he'd just eaten and repeated, much more comprehensibly than before, "You should really get into it. Gardening, I mean."

"Um, thank you, but no thank you. I'll leave that sort of thing to you and the captain."

Hitoshi nearly choked on the onigiri he'd just bitten into.

"Wait…" he sputtered, blinking several times, "He likes gardening? I never knew about that!"

Masaharu scoffed a bit, giving Hitoshi a slight look of disbelief, "What do you mean? Literally everyone in the entire club knows that the captain likes gardening. It's like his tennis when… he's… _not_ playing tennis." But even after saying that, Masaharu could tell from the genuine amazement traced onto Hitoshi's face that he was truly unaware of his own captain's favorite past time.

The manager paused in his movements and gazed at the bitten onigiri in his hand, feeling somewhat out of place now. When he really thought about it, he didn't know _anything_ about _any_ of his teammates. Of course, it couldn't really have been his fault; after all he was still technically a recent addition to the tennis club. But as manager—and as the one person who was required to see the captain every afternoon daily, it seemed sort of weird for him to still be ignorant of their interests.

Even worse, one so well known as the captain's apparent passion for gardening.

"Niou…" he murmured softly, almost hesitantly, "Am I… doing a good job?"

"What do you mean by 'good job'? Do you mean as manager?" Masaharu questioned, his blue eyes flicking towards the beige-blonde's sullen face. It was a strange sight; even though it didn't look odd on the manager, it was still uncomfortable to see the manager so let-down. While he wasn't as energetic and bouncy as the idiots Akaya and Bunta, Masaharu was used to seeing the manager smile.

Hitoshi nodded at Masaharu's question. "I feel like I'm slacking. You're all so close-knit, it's like I'm a stranger in my own team. And as manager, you'd figure that I find out all about you guys in a day, but I still don't even know your favorite colors. Am I not trying hard enough?"

"Well…" Masaharu's face scrunched into an expression of discomfort. He usually wasn't very good at this sort of thing—motivational speeches, that is. But he cared about his manager, even if he was new, and if his manager needed the validation then he'd give it the best he could. "You're not… bad. You're nice, and Akaya approves of you."

Coming from the deadpan look on Hitoshi's face, Masaharu could tell he'd failed miserably.

Still, Hitoshi sighed, and gave Masaharu a genuine smile, "It's okay, Niou. You don't need to answer the question. I figured that you wouldn't be good at this sort of thing anyways." He said as he returned to eating the onigiri he'd left abandoned for so long in his hand. But even if he was smiling now, Masaharu could see through that expression; as a trickster who's seen and imitated many faces, the mask Hitoshi was trying to wear now was still see-through.

"What I mean by 'you're not bad' is that you're pretty perceptive." Masaharu sighed, catching his manager's attention once more. "Even Yanagi thinks so. From the first day you joined the tennis club as manager, it was kinda obvious you weren't just some plain dude that the captain picked out of the blue and appointed manager. I don't know, I guess it was the air around you."

Hitoshi tilted his head curiously. "Well… he was against me becoming manager at first, y'know. He never explained why, but he looked kinda annoyed when I told him it was because I wanted to change. He thought that I was joining the tennis club to make friends or something."

"Yeah, the captain is harsh like that. He may not look it, but he's a pretty dark fellow. Kinda ironic, for someone known as 'the Child of God', y'know." Replied the white-haired boy; he turned onto his back again and stared up at the top of the gazebo. "Anyways, my point was that even if you feel like you're not trying hard enough to get to know us, you don't need to rush or overthink anything. Besides, you don't need to know our favorite colors or foods or anything to know you're doing a good job. You're job as manager is to help us win every game. As long as we win, you're fine as you are. At least… that's what the captain would say, I guess."

Hitoshi chuckled, "That does sound like something he'd say…"

"See? You know us well enough already."

"But…" Hitoshi pursed his lips as the hold he had on the onigiri tightened, his fingers pressing so deep into the moist rice they begun to sink in, "How am I supposed to learn more about captain Yukimura? He's always so spiteful towards me, I hate it. I mean, sometimes he's really nice and fun to talk to, but other times I feel like he wants to see me dead or something. Is he like this with everyone? Or is it just me? Do I remind him of someone he hates? Is it my face? I can't stand being unable to see through his unhappy expressions, cause it feels like I'm… not performing up to his standards.

"I talked to Yanagi about this problem, but all he said was that I had something that Yukimura 'used to have'. What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

As soon as Hitoshi finished his rant, he took in a long deep breath in exchange for all the air he'd used up prior. Never had he felt so frustrated towards another person, but with Seiichi everything seemed to go up and down and all around like some uncontrollable roller coaster that moved wildly depending on his actions.

"Eh, I'm not sure what Yanagi's words mean, but I _can_ tell you that captain Yukimura doesn't hate you, that's for sure." Masaharu spoke uncertainly, thinking over his choice of words. He didn't want to upset the manager any further, but he didn't want to blatantly lie to his face during a time of desperation. "If he hated you, you would have never become manager."

"Then why is he always looking at me like that…?" Hitoshi murmured, "Like I… Like I don't belong here?"

At those words, Masaharu found that he'd fallen victim to silence. For the longest time his head was empty. But even as the expression on Hitoshi's face grew more and more hopeless with the ticking time, Masaharu found that he could not come up with anything remotely positive to say to him.

That _was_ the case, at least, before he'd taken a quick glance at the cover of his bento. It was of a white background, decorated with various flowers.

"You're into gardening, aren't you?" he suddenly asked, a vague idea coming to mind. In response Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. "Yes…? But I already told you that I'm not that into it any… oh. Oh. _OH."_

It seemed that the idea had begun to make itself clear in both their heads, and as they realized how obvious their solution was they couldn't help but feel an analogous sense of stupidity and humiliation.

All this time, Hitoshi never really tried to understand Seiichi's pain. His only solution before was to stand back and mind his own business—or simply help him as some stress relieving toy. He'd never really go out of his way to actually connect with his captain, since he'd always preferred to distance himself from the blue-haired boy.

Once again, Hitoshi was selfish, only thinking of his own comfort and happiness when it came to someone who needed those things the most.

Before he'd told Seiichi that even monsters had hearts, but how was he supposed to mean what he said when all this time he was too perverse to approach the very demon that he'd first told that to?

"Oh my gods…" he muttered, eyes several inches wide, "I'm an idiot. An idiot _and_ a terrible person."

Masaharu chuckled and slapped a hand over his eyes as his chuckles turned into chortles in the span of seconds. "How come you never thought of this sooner?! All you had to do was connect with him! Oh jeez, maybe Yanagi and I were wrong about you being pretty smart after all!"

"O-Oh shut up!" Hitoshi cried indignantly, "It's not like you thought of this any sooner than I did!"

"In my defense, it was much sooner than you."

At this, Hitoshi found that he had nothing to say, and in the end he was fuming to himself in silence. All the while Masaharu was still quietly laughing to himself in reaction to their idiocy. How they never came to a solution earlier would forever be a mystery; perhaps they were both experiencing a momentary lapse in the head that disallowed them from thinking properly.

"Well, since the problem is solved I'm going to sleep now." Masaharu yawned as he stretched out his stiffened limbs. "Wake me up when lunch is over, will ya?"

Hitoshi immediately stood up in protest. "Wait, I was gonna go to sleep too! Niou!"

It seemed to be too late, however, since Masaharu had already become unresponsive. His body was still, save for the even rise and fall of his chest, and his eyes were glued shut. With a hopeless sigh Hitoshi collapsed back onto the bench and continued eating his food sullenly. But as he ate, a moment later, his eyes travelled back to the hydrangea bush he'd seen antecedent to Masaharu's entrance.

Suddenly, another light bulb flickered on inside Hitoshi's head. He set down the half-eaten bento beside him and stood up, moving from under the gazebo's cool shade to the hydrangea bush. With a look of concentration he carefully snapped off one of the stray corymb, feeling the slight tinge of guilt that ran though him fade as he tucked it into his coat pocket. Then he reached towards the ground and picked up one of the fallen flowers. It was still fresh in his hand.

Assiduously, he also tucked it into his pocket.

He then stood up and returned to the gazebo, promptly finishing his lunch and waiting patiently for the rest of lunch to be over.

* * *

「5:36 p.m.」

* * *

The rest of school seemed to go by in a rush.

Even club activities seemed to finish much faster than usual. Perhaps it was because of the increasing dread that began to weigh down inside Hitoshi's stomach—the dread that stemmed from the realization that he'd have to see _Seiichi Yukimura_ again.

Even though he had finally thought of a way to gain Seiichi's complete trust, he was still wary of his apparently volatile personality. He didn't want to accidentally upset his captain, but the thought of never being able to connect with him on a personal level discomforted Hitoshi. He wanted to be able to feel like a part of Rikkai's tennis club, and if the very person who recruited him secretly disapproved of him he would never feel like a complete member.

So, that was why Hitoshi came to the conclusion that if he wanted to approach Seiichi he'd have to first approach Gen'ichirou.

And put simply, it was easier _said_ than _done._

Merely walking up to Gen'ichirou felt like a death mission. Usually Hitoshi wasn't this cowardly around the vice-captain; if anything, he was apathetic to his presence. But when it came to _this_ kind of interaction, Hitoshi found himself sweating storms. He didn't want to disgrace himself in front of the damn giant but he was his only option. Of course, Renji was one other choice, but when Hitoshi weighed the options between possible public humiliation and definite mind games, he much preferred the latter.

With an attempted self-pep talk and the painful swallow of his better judgement, Hitoshi advanced towards the towering vice-captain and _squeaked,_ "Sanada." As soon as the ungodly noise left his mouth Hitoshi could feel the little bits of confidence he forced together (like a jigsaw puzzle with mismatched pieces) crumble away like his pride had a long time ago.

For a second, he debated on fleeing the scene right then and there or being a man and facing Gen'ichirou like a true Rikkai tennis club member.

It was too late to decide, however, since Gen'ichirou had turned already turned around by the time Hitoshi made up his mind. And to say that he was surprised was putting it _extremely_ lightly.

For the most part, Gen'ichirou was not aware that such a noise could be ever be produced by a human.

"Matsumoto? That was _you?"_

"Um… yeah?" replied the beige-blonde in the same manner one would have when asking a question, "I just uh… ah, needed to ask you something."

Gen'ichirou raised an eyebrow in question and turned the rest of the way, so that he was face-to-face with Hitoshi. The manager's edgy behavior was suspicious, since he was usually unruffled and casual around him; it bothered Gen'ichirou that the boy was being so uncharacteristically jumpy—whatever the cause, Gen'ichirou would find out.

"What is it?"

"Well, um… you see, I'm going to see captain Yukimura, you know. After practice. Which means I'm going to see him now. I mean, in a few minutes." Hitoshi spoke quickly, constantly stuttering and changing his choice of words. It was slightly annoying, but nothing unbearable. "And um, the captain kinda terrifies me, y'know." Hitoshi continued, gesturing his hands wildly and looking at everything in the clubroom possible _but_ him. "So if you could uh… I mean, well… how would I… how would I _approach_ him?"

"… What?"

"I guess I wasn't clear enough." Hitoshi sighed, and he took in a deep breath before repeating, "How would I approach Yukimura? I mean like, talk to him?"

"Is it because we are good friends that you assume that I would be able to help you?" Gen'ichirou inquired, turning back around and slipping his shirt on. As soon as he faced Hitoshi again, he could tell that he'd hit the nail on the head. The boy was sweating and on the fast route to a nervous breakdown. With a sigh, Gen'ichirou said, "I'm not sure how to help you. Have you already spoken to Renji?"

At this, Hitoshi blinked. Gen'ichirou wasn't going to scold him?

"Ah… I did, earlier, but his advice was… kind of confusing…" the manager spoke, his tone uncertain, "If you can't really help me, then that's fine…"

"No, I'd feel guilty." Gen'ichirou murmured, pulling on his blazer and fitting the sleeves so that they were tight and comfortable. "I understand that during this time, Seiichi is not the most… _friendly,_ of people. He's been going through a lot, and has much on his mind."

Hitoshi nodded. "I know… but it gets a little too hard sometimes. I'm not sure how to… _connect,_ for lack of a better term, with him. We're both into gardening, I know that. But what does he like to talk about? Does he even like to talk? What subjects annoy him? Things like that, I want to know. All this time I've always kept him at arm's length, but now I _guess_ I want to try to actually be friends with him, so that I can understand him. And so that… he understands me."

Gen'ichirou hummed for a moment, tilting his head. "I would assume the both of you were already friends, but if you think otherwise I won't disagree."

Hitoshi lifted his head and gazed at the vice-captain. "So you can help me?"

"I suppose I can try to tell you something meaningful…" Gen'ichirou muttered, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, if you weren't already aware, it's best if you not say anything about his condition. If he seems to be in a bad mood, you just shouldn't talk period. Better yet, just give him the daily report and leave, no matter what he says or how he protests. Usually, whenever he's upset he just needs some time alone."

Hitoshi frowned at the vice-captain and retorted, "What if he's in a bad mood all the time?"

"Bah, you're being overdramatic." Gen'ichirou replied with a wave of his hand, "Just take my advice. This is all I can really say. Anything else out of this mouth would be regurgitated lies I heard from the girls in my classroom, and I _doubt_ they were talking about wanting to be friends."

At this, Hitoshi sighed hopelessly. "Well, thanks for trying anyways, Sanada. I really appreciate it." With a smile, he patted the vice-captain's back and turned around to leave. "Also, I'll need you to lock up today!"

By the time his final words had registered into Gen'ichirou's head, the boy was already out the doors. As it was too late to run after Hitoshi, Gen'ichirou simply shook his head and proceeded to count the tennis balls.

* * *

「5:55 p.m.」

* * *

When Hitoshi reached the hospital, the trepidation that slowly accumulated from inside his guts began weighing him down. He could barely take a few steps without having to stop and take several deep breaths.

Was he really this scared to see Seiichi? No, that couldn't be it. This feeling wasn't because he was scared of Seiichi—no, it was because above everything else he feared being _unapproved_ by him.

With another heavy sigh, from sound within his chest, Hitoshi finally stepped foot into the hospital; into the familiar darkness and the foreign fetor of chemicals.

For another moment, he stopped, and all the panic that had piled over finally took its toll on him. Filled with a sudden terror—he wondered if this were all worth it. He could just take Gen'ichirou's advice. He could just drop off the report and leave. He could.

… But he _wouldn't._

He slipped his fingers into the pocket of his blazer and pulled out the hydrangea corymb he'd taken earlier, gazing at the drying petals that withered like the receding day. Pursing his lips tightly, he continued onward with a thin smile.

It was always a strange feeling for Hitoshi. To be one of the only younger ones visiting there, and being there all by himself, it always felt strange. After taking another deep breath he gave the woman working behind the desk a small smile and said, "I'm here to see Yukimura Seiichi."

"Ah yes, Matsumoto-kun?" she replied, also smiling politely. Hitoshi nodded as a faint tinge of pink colored his freckled cheeks. "D-Do I really visit that much?" he stuttered, dipping his head in slight embarrassment.

She didn't reply, but she did smile again as she handed him the clipboard. "Sign your name here. Visiting hours is almost over, so you won't be able to stay for very long. But you already know that, so I won't lecture you."

Hitoshi nodded at her with a soft smile, taking the pen and signing his name. Once he did so he slid it back towards her and left from the desk without another word. There was no point in waiting for a nurse to guide him to the hospital room since he'd already figured out his way around the place. But that only went to show just how many times he visited.

Still, despite the countless amounts of times he'd walked through the long, gaping halls of the hospital, the time it took to walk to Seiichi's room was always the same. Even when he was positive he'd been running, or purposely dawdling, he would always arrive in more or less eight minutes. At first it'd been thoroughly agitating, and he would always do all he could (read: anything that wouldn't get him kicked out of the hospital) to one-up his time by at least one minute, but inevitably he grew to overlook the trivial detail. There _were_ brief moments in the past, however, when that desire to defy destiny kicked in, and he'd end up getting scolded by a nurse for making a racket.

Fortunately today was not one of those brief moments, since he didn't feel particularly challenging. Instead, he took his time and strolled across the waxed tile floor in patience. If he was fated to reach some room in eight minutes then what point would there be to try and prevent it?

Naturally it sounded stupid, yes, but very reasonable to Hitoshi.

Then he almost laughed at how foolish he was being, thinking that such an inexplicable coincidence could be caused by fate; if he confessed this to Seiichi, he'd surely be called "inexplicable" as well.

 _'Such an odd one, you are,'_ he'd say, his pale lips curved into that usual mild smile of his, _'It makes me wonder what the inside of your head looks like.'_

Ironically, Seiichi was just as odd too, but Hitoshi never really found the need to say it. He had a feeling that Seiichi already knew.

Inescapably, eight minutes passed by, and Hitoshi found himself standing before a door too familiar to his ocean eyes. Written on a silver plaque, it read 'Room 404', the confirmation that behind this door would be a fallen king waiting for his next chance to rise again.

Hesitantly, Hitoshi wrapped his fingers around the chill metal knob and kept it there, his grip firm but still reluctant. And he waited—he waited for an uncertain amount of time, wondering if talking to Seiichi again would really solve anything. For one thing, they _weren't_ friends, despite what Gen'ichirou had thought. For another thing, everyone else accepted Hitoshi already, so why were Seiichi's thoughts so important? As Masaharu had pointed out before, if Seiichi disapproved of him, he'd have never become the tennis club's manager.

 _'Well…'_ Hitoshi thought to himself as he twisted the knob and pushed, _'I guess it's because I want to understand him above all else.'_

Once he stepped inside he dropped his head, fixing his gaze on the tile floor's shine. For a while he stood still like that, waiting once again. Except this time he wasn't waiting for himself.

"Why are you just standing there, looking at the ground? There is nothing there, unless I've looked like the ground to you all this time." Said a faint voice; one well-known to Hitoshi's ears. A miniscule smile touched Hitoshi's lips, and he looked up, meeting with his captain's dark eyes.

He looked divine with the orange sunset behind him, in spite of the dim light that darkened his ethereal features. His skin, pale like snow, soaked up the colors of the setting sun and he looked almost like a painting of an angel. Seiichi then smiled as well, the curve of his lips perfect and beautiful. He gestured towards the end of his bed with a delicate hand and said, "Please sit." Though as soft as it sounded, there was an underlying tone of command in that phrase. Seiichi was not being hospitable—Hitoshi of all people would know.

A short chuckle left from Hitoshi's lips, awkward and momentary, before he obeyed Seiichi's command and sat down on the edge of his bed. As soon as he was seated Seiichi said, "I don't want a report today."

Hitoshi blinked. He didn't want a report today?

"Oh… I guess I'll just go, the—"

"But I want you to stay."

As soon as Seiichi said that, Hitoshi's eyes immediately widened several inches, and he whipped his head towards the boy sitting only a few feet from him. His expression was still the same; a mild smile and dark eyes that were unreadable.

Suddenly, that same fear from before entered his body, breaching into his veins and running his blood cold. Hitoshi pursed his lips and he wrung his hands together, remembering what Gen'ichirou had told him. He could just leave, if it seemed like Seiichi was in a bad mood. And with eyes as vast as Seiichi's, and a smile that appeared to be so real, it was difficult to tell when Seiichi would snap and how he would snap.

So, Hitoshi could really just get up and leave.

But as he begun to move something slipped from his hands and fell to the floor. Like a charm, he was snapped out of his trance and able to think clearly again. Leaning down, he caught sight of the hydrangea corymb that he'd tucked into his coat pocket. It seemed that after taking it out in the office, he continued holding onto it.

He couldn't leave now and let this cycle continue. He wanted Seiichi's approval, and he wanted…

… he wanted his friendship.

Hitoshi smiled to himself, smiling dryly at his own selfish thoughts, and he picked up the corymb with two delicate fingers. After getting up again he hid it behind his back and approached Seiichi's side. "Captain Yukimura, I heard that you were a pretty passionate gardener."

Seiichi raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, his waves shifting and shaping around his cheeks, "And if I am?"

"Well, I figured that we can talk about gardening." Hitoshi grinned, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I did a lot of gardening before joining the tennis club, even though it started out as a small hobby."

Seiichi laughed a bit, sounding vaguely more genuine then he'd ever had before, "I already knew about that, Matsumoto-kun. About your love for flowers. I mean, I've seen your encyclopedia of flowers before, y'know."

Hitoshi was, reasonably, surprised. He blinked several times at the blue-haired boy, somewhat doubting but also believing him at the same time. "I… but I… I've never shown anyone…"

"It was some time ago, when you were in the hospital and drugged. I believe your grandmother sent daisies to the wrong room, and I volunteered to deliver them to the right room, your room, since you were so close. I delivered them, of course, and noticed your book on the bedside table. I believe it was open to a page about hydrangeas…" Seiichi explained in a slight murmur, his fingers holding onto his chin, his poise and elegance catching Hitoshi's breath.

The manager tightened his grip on the hydrangeas and smiled tightly. "What a coincidence! Because I brought something today… something that reminded me of you." But before Seiichi could question his odd phrasing Hitoshi pulled out the hydrangea and held it out towards Seiichi.

"Ta da! It's a hydrangea." He smiled, repressing the sudden wave of self-consciousness that begun to wash over him. He must've looked so stupid right now, with his hand outstretched, in said hand a flower. He was acting like a schoolboy with a crush. "In hanakotoba, it means 'narcissism', but I suppose you already knew that."

Seiichi raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat offended. "I knew that, yes. But how do I remind you of a hydrangea? What about a rose? Or a sunflower?"

"Weeell…" Hitoshi grinned, dragging out the word on his tongue in a teasing tone, "Because you're a narcissist. Well, maybe not a narcissist, but you're close to one. When you talk about tennis, you have this sort of cocky attitude, like everything you're saying could be translated to 'I'm stronger than everyone else'! Then you're all about power, with all that stuff you say about tennis being only about victory. Theeen you—"

"Okay, okay, you can stop there!" Seiichi interrupted, rolling his eyes (albeit playfully). He then took the hydrangea from Hitoshi's hand, holding onto it with not fragile—but _gentle_ fingers. And, though it could've been just his eyes playing tricks, for a split moment Seiichi's smile seemed genuine; such a smile even reached his dark eyes, lightening the severe brown to a pretty shade of hazel.

"You know…" Hitoshi began, seating himself on the bed again, "I was lying when I called you a narcissist. The reason why you remind me of a hydrangea is because despite your condition, you're still strong and confident in yourself. And like a hydrangea that brings fresh rain in the spring, you strengthen all those around you with your presence alone. Even in the wrong season, when you are at your weakest, the support you have gathered—and the support that you already had—drives you to continue growing and thriving. It's admirable, really."

Once admitting this, Hitoshi laughed, suddenly feeling very foolish for confessing something so cheesy (despite the truth in it). Even though he still believed that Seiichi hated him, and that he in turn probably secretly hated Seiichi, he couldn't help but to continue admiring him.

Seiichi chuckled to himself a bit—partly from his own sheepishness and partly from Hitoshi's words—as he shifted closer to where the beige-blonde sat on his bed. "Well, if I remind you of a hydrangea then you remind me of a daisy."

Hitoshi's face scrunched into an expression of disappointment. "Of course I'd remind you of a daisy."

The manager's upset reaction elicited another chuckle from the captain again, and through his laughter he asked, "Why do you look so unimpressed? Aren't daisies your favorite flowers?"

At this Hitoshi frowned and he turned his head so that Seiichi could no longer see the expression on his face. Softly, he mumbled, "They are. But a daisy generally signifies modesty and innocence, meaning that I would be plain and boring and naïve. Daisies are also usually weeds in gardens. How am I supposed to feel proud for being the odd one out?"

True, in a thriving garden like Rikkai's tennis club, Hitoshi's dull stature made him stand out among the regulars. When compared to their incredibility, it was always obvious that he was not of their league.

"But…" Seiichi smiled gently, and he leaned towards the beige-blonde, resting his forehead against the boy's back. It sent a strange shiver down Hitoshi's spine—not one of fear or discomfort, but it was hard to describe the feelings beginning to erupt from inside him. Somehow it felt good, and somehow it was refreshing. "You're not what you say you are, Matsumoto. You say you are plain and boring and naïve—well yes, you are naïve, but you are not boring or plain at all. You have a talent that not many else have and a bright vision that even I envy you for.

"You see, in hanakotoba, the daisy signifies faith. So while you believe you are unwanted and unneeded, just know that I chose _you_ as the team manager because I believed you would be able to bring back something that my absence has taken. And I'll be honest with you; while I briefly hated you for your optimism there was still something in you that showed potential. And in this state…" a wry smile came across Seiichi's face as he said this, "In this state, I will do _anything_ that ensures Rikkai's victory."

Seiichi then lifted his head, letting out a short breathless laugh as he shifted backwards and away from Hitoshi, who'd turned around and gazed at the other boy with his blue eyes ridiculously wide. They seemed to shine bright with something analogous to awe—so much so it was almost Seiichi's turn to avert his eyes.

"So… I'm not useless?" the boy spoke quietly, almost uncertainly, "You actually think I'm competent?"

The captain, in response, allowed a broad grin to stretch across his face. "As the manager of the tennis club and as the official mood maker, yes, that makes you a vital part to the team." He replied, watching the boy's face gradually lighten up. For the first time ever, Hitoshi gave Seiichi a large smile, completely genuine and oddly… oddly beautiful.

There was a soft moment of silence then, and the two boys took a moment to revel in the odd feeling that settled between them. Unlike the usual tension that drifted them apart, there was instead a satisfying content—as though a truce of some sort had just taken place.

"What a… this is a nice ambiance, huh?" Hitoshi spoke, not looking at Seiichi but rather at his hands. His fingers were long and elegant, but looked also pale and almost frail. Sometimes Hitoshi couldn't help but wonder how those feeble hands looked when Seiichi wasn't ill; were they broad? Were they calloused? Were they strong?

While Hitoshi was musing on these thoughts Seiichi was also thinking. He gazed at the hydrangea given to him and couldn't help but wonder about where his standing was when it came to the spontaneous manager. He'd always convinced himself that he hated Hitoshi's way of thinking; his way of handling obstacles and the way his damn blue eyes would shine whenever he said something absurdly optimistic. For some time, Seiichi had always been telling himself, _"It's not because I acknowledge him it's because I acknowledge his power"._

Yet now, somewhere deep inside him… something was budding.

Suddenly, Hitoshi hefted himself off the blue-haired boy's bed and begun to gather his things. When Seiichi lifted his head, he noticed that the boy's stupidly large grin was still stretched across his freckled face. It was so intoxicatingly bright it even compelled Seiichi to smile like that himself, but with a certain amount of self-control he bit it back and instead opted for a small grin. "Is it time for you to leave?"

"Yeah. I'll come back tomorrow, though, you know that!" Hitoshi beamed as he heaved his bag over his shoulders. But as he begun to walk backwards towards the door, his smile weakened and he said, "I-I'll see you tomorrow, then… captain."

Seiichi nodded. Still, it bothered him that Hitoshi would not address him by his given name, but that would be something the two could work on later. For now, he settled with the name, and replied, "I can't wait."

And this time, he actually smiled.

Hitoshi quickly waved goodbye before exiting the room, gently shutting the door behind himself in spite of his shaking hands. With a shuddered sigh, Hitoshi wobbled down the hall and smiled foolishly to himself. He had been so nervous, yet somehow now he was feeling something akin to giddy excitement.

While he still couldn't say that he understood Seiichi's pain, he was at least able to overcome the hesitance that always distanced them, and with that one revolutionary step he felt such a heavy burden lift from his body, and suddenly talking to Seiichi was not as hard as it was before.

He wasn't going to be selfish anymore.

Of course, change was always a long and arduous journey, and as the saying went old habits die hard, but Hitoshi was sure that he could survive the trek. Besides, giving up was something Tohru would never do.

With a soft smile, Hitoshi continued down the hall, whistling a merry tune as his excitement for the next day's arrival begun to fade.


	7. About Hitoshi

Chapter 07: About Hitoshi

 _"_ _But if you tame me, then we_ _shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I_ _shall be unique in all the world_ _._ _"_

\- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, _The Little Prince_

* * *

It went without saying that as the vice-captain of Rikkaidai junior high's tennis club, Gen'ichirou Sanada was required to know his closest teammates—the regulars. Of course, that didn't mean he was allowed to pry into their personal lives, but it was mandatory that he know their strengths and weaknesses, and exactly how those factors could be honed into powerful weapons.

Akaya Kirihara, for example, had immense talent. As expected of someone who mastered One-Footed Split Step at the young age of thirteen, he was nimble on his heels and possessed excellent reflexes. Additionally, despite his dense demeanor, Akaya was actually quick-thinking and clever when needed be. Still, he was only a juvenile, thus making him naturally immature and stubborn. These interfering factors made training the boy a living hell for Gen'ichirou, but he could sense that over the past year Akaya had grown some.

Akaya, unlike before, was not only limited to singles. Furthermore, he was able to refine his agility and intelligence, allowing him to stand a little longer on the court against particularly difficult opponents. Of course, he was still a stubborn little brat with a sharp tongue that ought to be cut, but overlooking those flaws Gen'ichirou knew he would be proud of what Akaya was to become.

The same could be said for the rest of the regulars. They all had certain quirks to them that made them stand out from the rest of the tennis club members, but with time those quirks were modified and used to their advantage. While Gen'ichirou still believed none of his teammates, including himself and even Seiichi, had reached their greatest capabilities, he fully believed that their powers were unmatched by any other. He knew he was being arrogant—but until Rikkaidai was defeated his opinions would not change.

Then… there was _him._ The club manager, Hitoshi Matsumoto.

He was the newest addition to Rikkaidai's tennis club, excluding the freshmen. However, regardless of the fact that he was new to tennis and to the team, Gen'ichirou noticed how short of a time it took for him to adapt to Rikkaidai's harsh atmosphere. It was amazing, almost _spectacular_ —already he was keeping pace with their training and stats; he was even beginning to grow onto the regulars—if they did not already like him, that is. Even Gen'ichirou had to admit, he was vaguely fonder of the beige-blond than when he had first joined the tennis club.

In spite of the fact that Hitoshi had not yet shown the club his abilities—his reason as to why he joined and the difference he was planning to make—Gen'ichirou could already tell that Hitoshi was no ordinary boy. The day that he slapped Hitoshi, on accident, when he had stepped in to protect Akaya, Gen'ichirou could remember those ocean-blue eyes of his.

They were calm, yet so raw with emotion.

This was when Hitoshi proved himself to Gen'ichirou, proved himself to be strong and worthy of his recognition—worthy of _Rikkai's_ recognition.

Hitoshi did not possess a physical advantage or an abnormally intelligent mind, but instead something deeper, something that allowed him to see and adapt and gain information at a terrifying speed. It wasn't just determination or a firm resolve, Gen'ichirou knew it, it had to be deeper, it had to be stronger than just _feelings._

No matter what it was, he was going to find a way to mature it, until it evolved into strength that everyone would admire and envy; until _those below them_ gave the tennis club manager the same expression of _fear_ they gave the regulars. Perhaps it was a terrible thing to be "planning", but Rikkaidai's motto was _"Always win, Rikkaidai";_ if the manager was to be on the team then he was also going to be playing his own role in their victories.

But as the vice-captain sat in the leather swivel chair, his eyes trained on the day's training menu while simultaneously unfocused, he did not seem to notice the office door opening. It didn't occur to him that someone else had just entered the room, he was that focused.

"You seem to be very concentrated on something, Gen'ichirou."

Like a snap of the fingers, Gen'chirou's concentration broke and he looked up in surprise. It was still very early in the morning, yet Renji Yanagi stood before him with his usual blank expression.

"You're early," he mumbled as he pushed the training menu aside and took off his cap, setting it down where the paper had previously been. Renji smiled down at his friend before holding out a Styrofoam cup of home-brewed coffee. "It'll help wake you up."

Gen'ichirou gave him a look, commenting, "Caffeine is not advised for children as young as us," however still took the cup anyway. While Gen'ichirou wasn't one to go back on his words, there were certain exceptions.

"If we were children I didn't realize," Renji chuckled. He pulled a nearby chair over and positioned it in front of the desk, then seating himself as he took a sip of his own cup of coffee. "Anyways, as I was saying earlier, you seemed to be very fixated on that training menu. Is there something we need to add or subtract?"

"No…" murmured the vice-captain uncertainly, "I was just… allowing myself slack off."

"Hm?" Renji raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that means you were thinking about something… or _someone._ Is it Seiichi? Has his condition worsened?"

"No… not about him," Gen'ichirou sighed as he took the warm Styrofoam cup that Renji had given him into his hands, "About Matsumoto."

"Everybody seems to be thinking of him… I wonder if he has done something wrong." The brunet mused aloud, his eyes closed but still curious. Gen'ichirou returned Renji's pondering with a strange look of his own before taking a long sip from his cup.

"No, he hasn't. It was just something miscellaneous, and I got too distracted," replied Gen'ichirou finally. He then looked up at the brunet before him, "Do you think we should start preparing for the Kantou Regionals?"

"It seems about right, though a tad bit early," answered the brunet. Then, he glanced at his watch, and with a soft click of his tongue, he stood up. "We should start to change. It wouldn't be good if the rest of the regulars arrived and saw us relaxing."

"I'll give my coffee to Niou or Jackal. Who knows what hell will transpire if Akaya or Marui get their hands on caffeine," the vice-captain muttered as he eased himself from the chair, at the same time picking up his cap and setting it down on his head. Renji chuckled at the comment, finding himself somewhat agreeing with Gen'ichirou's cautions.

The two of them had only just exited the office when the doors to the locker room opened, the figure stepping inside being someone they had _not_ expected to see so early.

"Ah, Sanada. Yanagi. You're both always such early birds, it's admirable," remarked their beige-blond manager—the _very_ person they had been talking about just moments prior. He _always_ arrived to practice late, so why was he outrageously early now?

Before either of the two could ask anything, Hitoshi was already approaching them with a bento box in his hands. He carefully took off the lid and revealed to them the contents inside; there were _several_ rows of tamagoyaki, all freshly cooked. Additionally, put to the side was a small row of rice. In the smaller boxes were peeled orange slices.

It wasn't a very well-put bento, but Gen'ichirou had to admit, it smelled irresistibly delicious.

Hitoshi unraveled the cloth holding his chopsticks and he carefully cut a particularly yellow omelet in half, picking one-half up and holding it towards Gen'ichirou's mouth. He stood rooted in place, a funny expression on his face as he awkwardly opened his mouth and allowed Hitoshi to feed him. Afterwards Hitoshi did the same with Renji, and he didn't speak until both finished eating.

"So, how does it taste?" he smiled, setting his chopsticks into his bento box and closing it. "I'm not much of a cook, but this morning Satoshi woke up super early and my mom was too tired to take care of him. Since I was up, I decided to cook breakfast and make my own bento."

Gen'ichirou and Renji both exchanged looks before answering, simultaneously, "It's delicious." The short answer seemed to satisfy Hitoshi, since he didn't attempt to feed them another.

He continued to smile brightly at them as he turned around to set his things down. "Waah, it feels so weird to be up this early! I thought I'd be tired but I guess I was doing so much this morning that I'm all energized now!"

He stripped off his blazer and opened his locker, taking out his tracksuit and replacing it with his school items. As he proceeded to change out of uniform, the two boys behind him turned around and left to do the same. It was odd having Hitoshi around so early, but it wasn't uncomfortable, since his chipper attitude was a nice change from the mellow silence.

"So, can I see the training menu for today? Also, if you two could help me move the water dispensers outside for today's laps that would be great," chattered the manager as he moved to put on his jersey. He seemed to be a very good mood.

"They shouldn't be that heavy…" Gen'ichirou commented, raising an eyebrow, "But if you insist, allow me and Renji to move them. Instead, you can count the tennis balls and take the cart out onto the court. When we're finished, we can rally until the rest of the members arrive."

At this, Hitoshi rolled his eyes and retorted in offense, "I'm not weak. You guys are just freakishly strong," before zipping up the ugly jersey they were required to wear daily. After tugging on the wrinkles that gathered and fixing his pants, he saw himself out.

After Hitoshi left there was a soft silence, but only for a few seconds before Renji spoke up. "He seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood. I don't think I've ever seen him talk that much before."

Gen'ichirou nodded, "I suppose something good happened then."

At this, Renji paused and pondered for a bit. He then turned to his friend, suggesting, "Perhaps his meeting with Seiichi actually went well for once."

The vice-captain's face distorted into a funny expression as he thought about what Renji's words meant. Sure, he knew that Hitoshi and Seiichi's relationship wasn't the steadiest as captain and subordinate, but Hitoshi never really mentioned just how _bad_ it was.

"I suppose so, then," was all he could really say in the end.

* * *

It was a general consensus among the tennis club that Hitoshi Matsumoto was probably the best manager in the whole entire world.

Of course, he wasn't the most talkative person and yes, he could be just as strict as Gen'ichirou if he wanted to be, but unlike the stoic vice-captain Hitoshi had an air of tranquility that surrounded him. It was so peaceful, so delightful, and everyone who had the good fortune of being near him was blessed by the comforting aura he emitted. And yes, while having a cute female manager would've been refreshing, it wasn't like Hitoshi was completely and utterly hideous.

Plain, maybe, but not ugly.

Besides, while not everyone said this aloud for personal reasons it was also agreed upon by the majority of the tennis club that Hitoshi's smile was something they looked forward to seeing every day. There was always something about the way he smiled that stood out as charming—but it wasn't just his smile, it was also his _eyes,_ the way they would gleam brightly like polished stones the color of the sky.

And not only was Hitoshi's looks welcoming, so was his voice and character. He was genuinely kind to his teammates, always concerned about their well-being and taking his time to nurse those who needed assistance. Of course, as someone who was absurdly new to managing a club with more than a hundred members, the blond-haired boy wasn't exactly too good at his job when it came to bandaging open injuries or handling the club budget. However, he tried his best every day, and that was enough to satisfy the boys of Rikkai's tennis club.

Even today, as he worked hard to prepare cups of water for the boys' daily laps he would spill a cup or two every now and then—but, without complaint, he'd immediately go to replace the empty, fallen cups with a new one. It truly was the smallest things about him that made everyone admire him so much (in secret of course).

"Good morning, senpai! You're doing a great job!" a second-year shouted, earning him one of Hitoshi's cherished smiles. The manager lifted his hands to cup his mouth as he shouted in reply, "Thank you! Try your best today!"

The second-year didn't reply, but he grinned, indicating that he'd heard the manager's encouragement. Once he'd disappeared into the crowd of other second-years, Hitoshi's attention returned to preparing water. It wasn't until he was almost done filling the last cup that he was approached again.

"Good job, Matsumoto," said a deep, baritone voice that Hitoshi immediately recognized. The manager stood up from over the table, straightening his back and turning to face Gen'ichirou as he smiled at him as well.

"Thank you, vice-captain," replied the chipper boy. His radiance seemed to stun Gen'ichirou for a bit, since the taller boy's face scrunched into vague confusion. He'd never seen Hitoshi so cheerful before—usually, during the mornings, he wasn't the type to talk or even smile.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me asking," Gen'ichirou began as he folded his arms, "But did your meeting with our captain go well, yesterday?"

Hitoshi's smile fell, and his sharp blue eyes latched onto Gen'ichirou's rigid posture as he slowly replied, "… It _did."_

Gen'ichirou nodded, equally as slowly. "That's good. Then I suppose that you will no longer have any troubles concerning him?"

Hitoshi's expressionless face remained the same as he turned his head, looking towards the asphalt track; he was silent for a long time, to the point where Gen'ichirou wondered if he had somehow offended the boy. It wasn't until a little while later, when the first of the first-years begun their laps, that Hitoshi finally replied, "I guess." It was a short, harsh reply that barely answered the vice-captain's question.

Gen'ichirou raised an eyebrow in both interest and impatience at the delayed answer, "'I guess'?" he repeated, using a tone that told Hitoshi that he was unsatisfied with the half-hearted response.

Hitoshi nodded. "I just guess," he repeated, "I mean, who knows what'll happen ahead of time." After saying this, Hitoshi fell silent again, and this time it was clear he had nothing left to say to his vice-captain.

With a shrug, Gen'ichirou accepted the answer.

And once the vice-captain left Hitoshi's side, Hitoshi couldn't help but release a long breath of relief. The questions he asked, while simple, were heavy on Hitoshi. Even if yesterday's visit had gone well, even if he'd gone to sleep early with a smile on his face, that didn't stop Hitoshi from second-guessing everything. What _would_ happen from now on? Would the strained relationship between him and Seiichi mend just like that?

It wasn't as though Hitoshi was going to go back on his words—he truly wanted to be able to understand his captain, to see everything from his side of the world. Yet… Seiichi was always so cold, so distant, and Hitoshi was scared that the time from yesterday to now would be enough time for Seiichi to hide himself away again.

Hitoshi stared at the running first-years, but at the same time was not focused on them. Instead, he stared past them, even past the crossed fences and past the tennis courts. All the while, he could only find himself pondering over the same question, over and over. Would Seiichi still be the same tomorrow?

It was funny, how much Hitoshi thought about this boy.

* * *

Seiichi Yukimura was in no mood for tests or shots.

However, strange thing was, it wasn't because he'd woken up angry or upset—not _even_ because of the usual, crippling pain he was in. Today he was looking forward to _one_ thing specifically. Of course, every day he looked forward to his evenings, but not with the same excitement he was feeling at the moment.

It wasn't as though Hitoshi Matsumoto's presence brought any life-changing joy to Seiichi's life, but somehow the blue-haired teenager was _always_ eager to see him, especially now, after the realization that Hitoshi carried a truly _special_ gift with him.

He was still a very simple, naïve child but Seiichi knew that deep within that blue-eyed boy there was a talent that was once familiar to him. It was a talent that drew Seiichi close, the same way light did a moth. Perhaps in a few months, after overcoming his illness, Seiichi would…

He would…

What _would_ he do?

Seiichi leaned back in his bed and closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he envisioned those bright-blue irises that always pierced through his black-and-white world, leaving his mind and body in a confused and chaotic mess of anger and excitement.

He wanted to see Hitoshi again. He wanted to see Hitoshi's _eyes_ again, only to satisfy his own curiosities. And, honestly, he didn't care too much about what his teammates did today either—he already had a vague idea anyways. What he _really_ wanted now was to know who Hitoshi was; what was his favorite color? Food? Genre of music?

What was his sexuality?

What was his date of birth?

Has he ever—no, too personal.

Seiichi pulled his blankets close to his chest as he changed his position in bed, his eyes still closed and the picture of Hitoshi still in his mind. Then suddenly, he realized something.

Seiichi knew _very_ little about this boy. No, he knew almost _nothing._

He didn't know anything about his home life, his personality, interests—not that he ever bothered to ask, really, it just didn't occur to him until now that he'd never had an actual, friendly conversation with him. It seemed like a strange thing to Seiichi, but then again he and Hitoshi never really had an actual relationship to begin with.

From the very moment they met each other, they weren't exactly friends—or even acquaintances. They talked, sure, but when Seiichi really thought about it… he had never viewed Hitoshi as another boy. When he saw Hitoshi, he saw himself; the him that was rational and understanding and contempt…

… the him that knew nothing about death.

Seiichi finally opened his eyes, the small strips of light streaming through his curtain windows bringing small dust particles to light. The air was light and for the first time, his room seemed a little bigger.

He smiled grimly, chuckling under his breath as he slowly sat up against his pillows to look at his outstretched hands. His palms were pale and his long fingers thin—they were practically the hands of a woman now.

Then, he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he thought about the way Gen'ichirou's large, calloused fingers would feel around his. They'd be rough, of course, and their palms would fit together just perfectly.

Then, Seiichi thought about Renji's hands. They would feel soft and slender, but not in the feminine way; because Renji played tennis, his fingers would also be a bit rough.

Seiichi's eyes begun to drift towards the bed stand, his sight settling on a single hydrangea comb. Its colors were beginning to drain with death, but despite that it's beauty was still preserved. One day, when he finally got out of this damned hospital room, Seiichi would put it somewhere safe in his bedroom.

 _Hitoshi's hands…_

Seiichi's hands balled into fists, but not angrily; he was gentle with his fingers and squeezed the air softly as he thought aimlessly.

 _… Hitoshi's hands would feel soft, and welcoming. They'd be gentle and patient with these weak fingers. His flesh would be warm with life as his palms slip over mine, delicate but not fragile; in comparison to these hands, Hitoshi's are not as beautiful—but they hold some merit in their own way._

Seiichi smiled to himself, admittedly feeling somewhat silly for thinking about Hitoshi's hands in such a way. It was so peculiar, the way Seiichi's feelings towards that dumb, simple child changed—it was almost funny, really, so funny he began laughing. His chuckles drifted across the empty room, giving it an almost hollow sound, but he didn't mind.

Perhaps one day, when Seiichi was finally free, he would be able to laugh with not only himself or his teammates, but with Hitoshi as well.

And in that moment, Seiichi would truly feel alive.

* * *

"The moon is often hidden by a cloud; flowers are often scattered by the wind."

Akaya turned to look at his senpai, who'd previously been sitting on the bench, quietly keeping to himself as Akaya changed back into his uniform. "What's that supposed to mean, Matsu-senpai?" he asked, looking puzzled as to why Hitoshi even said something so profound in the first place.

Hitoshi's eyes flicked over to Akaya, but only for a second. "It's an old proverb that essentially means that nothing in this world is certain. During great moments, misfortunes still come, and vice versa."

"That sounds awful," Akaya replied, sounding uninterested. He was never really into stuff like philosophy; it was too complex for a mind so simple like his. Besides, in his eyes, the only thing that really gave life any solid meaning was tennis.

Hitoshi chuckled faintly, his eyes narrowing a bit. "Maybe," he said as he turned to face Akaya, "It is kind of awful. But that's the way the world works, and even though it's hard life becomes interesting because of it."

Akaya's face scrunched into an expression that clearly told the blond manager that nothing he said made any clear sense. Hitoshi laughed at this, getting up and reaching over to Akaya, patting his head lightly.

"At least, that's what old people say to make kids like us stop complaining," Hitoshi continued, chuckling quietly as Akaya continued to make the same expression. It was a concept that someone his age probably wouldn't start getting until later.

"Well, I'm gonna get going then, Akaya. I'm pretty sure the captain's getting impatient waiting for me," Hitoshi sighed as he swung his school bag over his shoulders, which have grown rather broad since the day he first joined the tennis club.

Akaya grinned and waved ecstatically, "Tell the captain that I said hi!"

Hitoshi's eyes softened and he smiled back at Akaya, returning his wave with a gentle one. "I will, Akaya," he replied. Then he turned around, leaving the locker room without another word of exchange.

But as the door shut behind him, he (without any real reason) looked towards the sky.


End file.
